


Smith's Book Store

by Kelkat9



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Bookstores, F/M, Romance, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelkat9/pseuds/Kelkat9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1868, the premiere book store in all of London is Smith's Books.  Jonathon Smith is a man with an unhappy past and strives to make amends for his perceived sins by promoting books to the public so that not only the very rich can afford them.  Lady Rose Tyler, daughter of the Earl of Powell is newly arrived in London after spending most of her life with her family in India.  Her family expects her to marry well.  But Rose is unsatisfied with the typical high society bachelors more interested in her family status than what she thinks.  Jonathon Smith is so different, kind, generous and intrigues her with his intellect and his quiet demeanour.  Her family would never approve of such a match but Rose is clever and a determined heart is unstoppable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is written a touch more formally to reflect the time period. I don't think it will be very long - just a few chapters and is pretty much a sweet romance. This was sort of prompted over a year ago by ceruleanbluesart on tumblr. I've taken a few liberties with it though ;)

Lady Rose Tyler stepped from her family home into the crisp London air. A giddiness and spark of adventure coursed through her. Her family settled back in London after fifteen years in India living in Mumbai. Part of her still missed her friends and the people of the busy port city. The often unpredictable weather; dusty streets with vendors shouting out their wares, scents of roasted spices mixed with the sour tang of humanity still felt like home.

She hadn’t seen much of London. Her mother didn’t travel well and suffered a variety of maladies on the long steamship trip back to their home country. Rose attended her as a dutiful daughter should. But her feet itched to explore the city of her birth. 

From her brief glimpses, out strolling with her father, Lord Peter Tyler, the Earl of Powell, and attending a few dinners with his friends and family, Rose found London formal, socially restrictive but rich in culture and industry. In particular, she’d been thrilled with the availability of museums, art and variety of literature. 

Her mother, Lady Jacqueline, was less thrilled by such things. She preferred the latest fashion, gardening in a proper English garden, tea parties and the most coveted of activities: the marriage hunt – in particular for Rose. Although Rose enjoyed many of those things, she often found them unfulfilling or tedious. Her mother failed to understand why Rose preferred reading to embroidery or discussing the latest wedding announcement or scandal.

After much pleading, and her father’s intervention, her mother finally consented to allow Rose freedom to explore. But with restrictions, she was to be escorted by her cousin, Lady Amelia Pond or another member of the family. 

The clip clop of horses down the cobblestone street, preceded a black carriage rolling to a stop before her family’s white three story home with its ornate balustrades and columned portico. Knowing she was under her mother’s watchful eye, Rose walked with poise toward the waiting carriage. Her long, pleated, damask blue skirts swished around her ankles as the footman opened the door for her.

“Cousin,” Lady Amelia Pond inclined her head.

Rose couldn’t contain the smile bursting onto her face before curtseying. “Amelia, you look stunning today.”

Rose was genuine in her admiration. Amelia bore such elegance with a long neck and pale skin set off by vivid ginger hair artfully arranged in a cascade of curls . Rose always found her cousin to be fashionable and today was no exception. Her emerald green dress with a demure square neckline embellished with delicate lace cascaded down to her ankles from a cinched waste.

Rose climbed in and arranged her bustled skirts on the leather seat opposite Amelia.

“How is your mother?” Amelia asked, raising one gloved hand to adjust her matching hat, decorated with pink rose buds.

“She’s well, thank you. Unhappy her daughter is unmarried with no prospects but otherwise, enjoying the spring weather.” Rose gripped the window as the carriage jolted forward.

“Well she does have a point,” Amy acknowledged. “You’re twenty and should be enjoying season with countless suitors vying for your attention.”

“I know.” Rose deflated and slumped back against the seat, comfortable confiding in Amelia. She was one of Rose’s few friends and understood the difficulties of assimilating into London society. Amelia had been raised in the small town of Leadworth and knew nothing of London society until her eighteenth birthday over a year ago.

Amelia was now engaged to Lord Roderick Williams, an orphan from a titled family raised by his paternal Uncle Harold Sullivan. Roderick, known to Rose by his family name, Rory, attended London University. He and her cousin had opposite personalities but were well matched in Rose’s opinion. Amelia’s fiery and sometimes tart opinions were countered by Rory’s quiet demeanour and dedication to his studies.

“Why do you look so downtrodden?” Amelia demanded, tartly. “Our mothers both agreed, you presented well to the Prince of Wales was a success. And you were a popular dance partner at Almacks.”

“Perhaps but none of those gentlemen interest me.” Rose gazed wistfully out the window at the bustling people walking down the street before tall brick and stone buildings. “And I doubt I interested them for much more than my family’s position.” 

A slight smile curved her face at the scent of fried fish reminding here of Mumbai. In India she’d often walked the earthen streets escorted by Reverend Lethbridge and his wife. She’d enjoyed helping them with their ministry to the poor and lost souls of Mumbai.

She yearned to experience London life in a similar fashion. Even though she acknowledged such behaviour would be considered improper and possibly scandalous. Proper ladies remained demure, graceful and focused on family.

“You haven’t given it a chance.” Amy tapped her arm with a closed fan. “I didn’t meet Rory until my fourth party and even then, it took all evening for him to even say one word to me.”

Rose smiled genuinely at Amelia. “You’re so lucky. Rory isn’t like most noble gentlemen. He has a kindness, intelligence and respect for you. Rory would never treat you like some china figurine to be admired and presented at parties.” Amelia’s cheeks tinged pink before she cleared her throat and schooled her face into polite indifference.

“Your father is well placed in both family and politically. His accomplishments in India are highly regarded and envied. You should have your pick of eligible suitors.”

“Amelia, it is not so simple.” Rose sighed, tucking a fallen blond curl back up under her blue feather adorned hat. “I want to fall in love and marry someone who loves and respects me.”

“Love!” Amelia snorted. “Mother says love comes with time, patience and many children.”

“You love Rory,” Rose reminded her.

Amelia’s face softened. “Yes, well Rory is soft hearted. He needs a wife who can manage his house and give him a good shove when he needs it.”

A giggle bubbled out of Rose as the carriage jolted to a stop at Gordon Square at University of London. She believed Amelia was just that woman and knew in her heart, it was more than a good shove. Amy glowed around Rory in the fashion Rose hoped she would one day. She just couldn’t see it happening at one of the balls or strolling through the park.

#

The bell on the door to Smith’s Books jingled like it had since eight o’clock that morning when the shop opened. A touch of pride lifted the corners of James Smith’s mouth as he watched booklovers stream into his shop. It was a tiny place when he bought it barely fitting four book shelves and looking worse for wear. He’d worked hard over the past two years renovating the shop on Oxford Street a few blocks from London University. Now it was the premier book shop in London with dark wood panelled walls, lined with row after row of shelves brimming with books and even extended to the second floor.

“Mr. Milligan, Mr. Copper,” he greeted the young students as they ducked out of his shop, no doubt late for class. They were followed by Ms. Shaw, an exuberant and independent woman of means who’d been petitioning the University to accept female students. She and her daughters often patronized his shop.

The steady tick tock of his brass pocket watch reminded him one of his favourite customers would be by soon. Unconsciously, he straightened is navy coat, gold and blue floral patterned waistcoat and adjusted his white ascot. Not that he cared how he looked. Primping and styling was the way of the wealthy and titled. Such frivolous things were not meant for an old, battle worn former officer like him. 

He glanced at his reflection in the glass protecting his most cherished books, a first edition of Charles Darwin’s _An Origin of Species_ , causing much debate of late, and _Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World_ by Jonathon Swift which had its own special meaning to him.

He sniffed and turned away from the image of his daft old face, a prominent ears, lines furrowing his brow set off against blue eyes that had seen far too much war and pain in his travels. The vivacious Lady Rose would hardly find him attractive much less suitable for anything other than recommending books. 

Jonathon knew she was the daughter of the Earl of Powell and had travelled abroad only recently returned from India. No doubt her family’s intention was her procuring an appropriate husband for their lovely blonde daughter. 

Despite what he assumed was a busy schedule on the marriage hunt, she’d been in his shop every Tuesday for the past four weeks. Her taste was eclectic and varied although she seemed to have a fondness for romantic adventure and history. Not that he paid particular attention. Lady Rose was just like any other customer. Jonathon would never admit to admiring her sparkling brown eyes or easy smile or how her fingers lingering on the spine of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ caused warmth to heat his neck or foster most unbecoming thoughts.

“Mr. Smith! Good day to you, Sir!” elderly, Wilfred Mott greeted, tipping his top hat. 

Jonathon shook himself from improper thoughts of his lovely Lady Rose and nodded his head at his esteemed customer. A genuine smile lighted his face at the jovial man whose long black coat and had had seen better days. He’d enjoyed many an afternoon with Mr. Mott discussing the latest additions to his subscription lending library. 

The library was his pride and joy and he wasn’t afraid to admit his idea was genius. Books were expensive and not all his clientele could afford to indulge their cravings for literature. He devised another option benefiting both readers and authors, a monthly subscription to read all the books they wanted. And he cornered the market on variety, negotiating deals with local publishers to buy up massive quantities of books, even from lesser known authors.

He left his clerk, Craig, to mind the front and followed Mr. Mott back where he perused one of his latest acquisitions by Charles Dickens, _Great Expectations_.

“Mr. Mott, you finding what you need?” he asked, slipping into a Northern accent from his childhood.

“Yes, just considering a bit of Mr. Dickens to keep me company.”

Jonathon aimed an assessing look at Mr. Mott. He knew the gentlemen was a widower who’d seen happier times. His daughter moved away with barely a word but his granddaughter lived in London and did as much as she could for him. Jonathon felt a kinship with grey haired man who chose the company of books over the pity of his fellow parishioners at church.

“Up for something with a touch more adventure?” 

Mr. Mott’s blue eyes sparkled and the corner of his eyes crinkled in delight. 

“Heroism, defending the righteous and some fantastic sword fighting!” Jonathon exclaimed as his long lean frame thrust forward in a perfect sword thrust gesture. He led Mr. Mott to one of his newest favourites _The Three Musketeers_.

“Thomas Alexandre Dumas,” Mr. Mott read on the cover. “French?” He arched his brow at this. Many still questioned the French with their involvement in the Prussian war.

Before Jonathon could continue extolling the virtues of the French Novelist, the bells on the entrance chimed and the faint scent of jasmine wafted on the breeze. His tongue tied and he turned to watch Lady Rose, Lord Williams and his fiancé enter the shop.

He knew Lord Williams, a well-read young man attending the university, he often visited, seeking out one of Jonathon’s unparalleled selections of science books. He recalled the young lord’s last purchase involved the healing arts. But he couldn’t be bothered with that with the golden haired Lady whose bright smile lighted his entire store. It wasn’t until Mr. Mott tapped him on the shoulder he remembered he was assisting him.

“I think you have a customer who requires assistance,” Mr. Mott suggested, a knowing smile on his face speaking louder than words. 

“And I’m helping one of my most esteemed customers with this fantastic tale of adventure,” Jonathon replied, shifting his feet slightly knowing he wasn’t fooling his friend.

“Yes, and I’m sure the charming lady would equally enjoy your assistance.”

Jonathon swallowed hard, his neck flushing. His silly infatuation shouldn’t be so obvious. Lady Rose wasn’t for the likes of him, broken from a past of violence and bloodshed. She was pure, unstained by life and deserved refined company, a doting husband and to be surrounded by fine literature. His life was one of service, to pay for his sins and help others find solace in his books.

But she was a customer and one he enjoyed discourse on a variety of topics including literature and travel. His duty to serve was no less to her than any person who walked into his shop. Even if the very nature of her presence caused his heart to pound with life like it hadn’t for decades. He strode up to the lady in question and her companion.

“My ladies, Lord Williams,” Jonathon greeted and bowed.

“Mr. Smith,” they all returned curtseying and bowing.

“How may I assist you?” His gaze connected with Lady Rose who delicately flushed and looked away.

“I was interested in a new text you expected to receive this week. I believe it was a treatise on Carbolic Acid and its uses as an antiseptic,” Lord Williams inquired.

“Dearest fiancée,” Lady Amelia admonished in a smooth tone and Jonathon knew the next sentence by heart. “Your uncle has expressed concern about diverting your attention from legal studies.”

Lord Williams stiffened and Jonathon watched Lady Rose quite cleverly turn the conversation to a moderate topic and provide her with freedom to explore his shop which he knew she enjoyed. 

“My dear cousin, I am quite certain your brilliant Lord Williams merely desires to expand his knowledge. Why I’ve heard my father often extol praise on gentlemen who diversify their expertise and are able to provide specialized knowledge such as legal expertise to esteemed physicians.”

Jonathon bit back a chuckle. And he was so bold as to imagine Lady Amelia and Lord Williams enjoyed her cousin’s intervention so they may enjoy freedom to wander his shop for entirely different purposes than Lady Rose. Perhaps even as much as Lady Amelia’s footman enjoyed the attentions of the baker’s daughter who joined him as he stood outside the shop.

Lord Williams cleared his throat and nodded his head. 

“I believe you’ll find the text in question back in sciences, Lord Williams.” Jonathon pointed toward the back corner of his store lined with wooden cases filled with various periodicals and books covering biology, chemistry and various science topics.

“Perhaps while Lord Williams and my cousin discuss the finer points of diversifying his studies,” Lady Rose formally suggested drawing out her words and fluttering her eyelashes. “Mr. Smith can apprise me of his latest literary acquisitions.”

Lady Amelia directed a discerning look at him as she often did before gently resting her hand on Lord William’s arm for him to lead her away.

Everything else faded away as he found himself in the company of the intelligent lady who enjoyed the likes of Jane Austen, Charles Dickens and even the American author Mark Twain. But today, he had something special in mind. If there was one thing he enjoyed more than anything, it was impressing his clientele with his latest finds.

“My lady.” He bowed with a wide sweep arm gestured her over to an area displaying his newest additions. Although lined with many dark wood cases, some covered in glass, his shop was open and airy with tall ceilings and wide spaces between shelves. He assured propriety would be the standard in his shop since it catered to both men and women.

“Mr. Smith, I must confess every time I pass through the blue doors of your shop, I feel as if I am swept away to another time or place,” Lady Rose confessed as they lingered before one his ornate shelves packed with a variety of leather and fabric bound books of different colours and designs.

Jonathon preened. “That’s what books are to me. A portal to distance lands filled with exciting or tragic characters, of times long ago or times to come,” he answered.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathless as she stood next to him gazing with longing at his books.

His breath caught and his heart pounded in his chest. He fisted his hands as a reminder to not be so swept away by the lady beside him as he was with his books.

“I’m sure a lady with such fine taste in reading material and keen intellect must enjoy a myriad of company to entertain her.” Jonathon couldn’t keep a slight bitterness from his voice. She had a life he’d never know. 

Yes, he did often interact with the elite and business class, but they all knew he wasn’t one of them. One look at his hard face or how he refused to bow down and submit to societal prejudice, proved he was different. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

But then he noticed a shadow across her face. His heart stuttered. Her eyes lost their prior sparkle and a troubled frown marred her face.

“My lady, I didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s quite all right, Mr. Smith. You’re right. I do lead a very fortunate life compared to some.” Her glance lingered on a young man in worn clothing. The boy’s father worked at the shipyards and the family struggled. But the thirteen old lad had dreams. He struggled to read with a great determination furrowing his brow.

“I would never complain at my family’s good fortune and thank God every day for our prosperity and good health. But sometimes a privileged life lacks an authenticity one learns from struggle and adversity. This must sound strange and terribly spoiled of me.”

“No,” he answered quickly, his voice deepening. For such a young woman, she had a tremendous depth of character.

“Forgive me, I spoke out of turn.” Lady Rose focused on the books as if they were her salvation. “You were going to make a recommendation were you not?”

“It is I who should beg your forgiveness.” He inclined his head, catching the lady’s shocked expression. “My dear lady, you could never speak out of turn and I understand your meaning. You are well travelled and experienced in the fragility of life in the world beyond our great country.”

She smiled and looked away, a slight pink flushing her cheeks. “You are too kind to indulge my lapse in manners.

“No lapse,” Jonathon quickly responded, his voice warm with a slight gruff tone. “In fact, I think perhaps you might enjoy a touch of whimsy and adventure. If I may?” He pulled a book out and presented it with flourish to her.

“ _Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland_ by Mr. Lewis Carroll. The Queen herself found the story enchanting and I’m sure you will as well.”

She traced her fingers over the red cloth with gold gild. “An adventure story?”

“Much more than just an adventure story!” He exclaimed with enthusiasm lighting his eyes. “Why this tale sweeps the reader off to imaginary lands where animals talk and a young girl realizes she’s clever and can speak her mind. I think it’s just the thing to amuse and inspire the imagination!”

“It sounds perfect. Thank you, Mr. Smith. A visit to your shop is always the highlight of my week.” She looked around and smiled at the shop teeming with a variety of people all engaged in their common enjoyment of reading.

“And thank you for opening this shop. It reminds me of mission work in Mumbai, a service to those who need enlightenment and uplifting of the soul. What better way than through literature?”

And with those softly spoken words, his chest constricted and his throat tightened. She understood him in a way few did. So lost in his thoughts and the depths of her eyes, he didn’t hear Lord Williams behind him until he cleared his throat. He blinked and stepped away turning to Lord Williams and escorting them to the front register.

He left them with Craig, too overwhelmed by Lady Rose and quickly backed away busying himself with other customers. He didn’t miss what they said as he left.

“Such a peculiar individual,” Lady Amelia commented in her tart assessing manner.

“I think he’s quite kind and generous. There should be more people in the world like Mr. Smith,” Lady Rose said kindly.

How did she do it? One refined, warm hearted lady conquered him. They’d barely exchanged a few hundred words between them. Yet she burrowed through years of pain and anger. And he was already looking forward to her visit next Tuesday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. Unbetaed. I stuck to one POV this chapter but next chapter will be Mr. Smith's POV. Thanks for reading!

Rose’s dance partner discretely spun her around the room, her peach frock flaring around her slippered feet. The string quartet played a vibrant five step waltz. Her older partner maintained a proprietous mildly disinterested composure as he gracefully danced with her in her Aunt Sylvia’s ballroom. It should be a night to remember with several handsome and wealthy suitors vying for her attention. But Rose’s thoughts wandered.

She didn’t miss a step nor reveal her tumultuous emotions to anyone. Like her partner, she kept her face neutral although flushed from the activity. Or perhaps, something else caused her cheeks to redden that had nothing to do with dancing or the eligible bachelors at this party. The dance ended and she curtsied to her partner, Lord Rickston Slade.

She walked quietly back to her parents. Her mother was engaged in yet another conversation about primroses and her father nodded his head at Prime Minister Stanley; no doubt, discussing troubles in India involving the East India Trading Company. Neither conversation interested Rose. She gently arranged her skirts, sitting off to the side watching couples swirl and swish across the floor.

The beautiful gowns, in various pastel shades like soft pink, green and orchid with trailing floral embroidery or discreet silver thread embellishments reminded Rose of the novel she finished. A warm smile upturned the corners of her mouth as she imagined Alice, The Red Queen and the White rabbit mixed amongst the dancers.

The book was a new favourite of hers. But then she always enjoyed the books Mr. Smith recommended. She couldn’t wait to see him and praise the whimsical story with a touch of political satire. 

In some ways she identified with Alice and viewed Mr. Smith’s shop as her own looking glass. Not that she had any reason to complain. Rose was grateful for her family’s success and realized many didn’t enjoy her education and privileges. But at times, she grew weary of the constant critique of manners and social graces.

She envied Mr. Smith and his lovely shop. Rose was sure he worked as hard as her father; although, in a career that Rose found far more impressive. The scent of books and musty agedness of his shop had often calmed and grounded her as she watched the variety of people browsing his collection. 

In a way, it reminded her of India and the markets where people of many different cultures and classes mixed. Mr. Smith treated everyone like equals. She often found herself thinking of the tall man with light blue eyes that penetrated through to her soul. A blue suited gentleman interrupted her thoughts and yearning to be lost in Mr. Smith’s shop.

“Rose, I don’t believe you’ve met Lord Jack Harkness. Mr. Harkness, this is my daughter, Miss Rose Tyler.” Rose startled at her father’s formal tone. She stood to greet one of the most handsome men she’d ever met. Raven black hair set off deep blue eyes twinkling with much more than the stodgy formality exhibited at the party.

“Lord Harkness,” Rose finally sputtered, her cheeks flushed at the gentleman’s amused gaze. She dipped into a perfect curtsey.

“Miss Tyler,” he responded and bowed at the waist, his crisp white shirt set off by a blue and gold waistcoat and an ascot studded with a single sapphire broach.

“Lord Harkness and I have been working on some projects overseas,” her father revealed. “He’s an educated and quite creative thinker. He’s spent time in India and I thought the two of you may enjoy reminiscing.”

Rose again flushed at her father’s compliments and obvious attempt at match-making which was so unlike him. Yes, he wanted her married and approved or disproved of any suitors. But to go so far as a personal introduction or esteeming said suitor was unlike him.

“You are too kind, Mr. Tyler.” Lord Harkness inclined his head. “And I am enchanted to meet your daughter. I’ve heard many compliments about her kind and compassionate nature as well as her skills at croquet.”

Her father chuckled. “I’m afraid she gets her competitive nature from me.”

“Father,” Rose chastised and demurely looked down even though inside she beamed at the compliments. The musicians began to play a vibrant tune.

“May I have this dance?” Lord Harkness asked, seeking permission from her father who inclined his head.

Rose accepted his proffered hand and allowed the charming Lord Harkness to whisk her away onto the dance floor. She had to admit, he was just the distraction she needed. After a vigorous dance, the two walked back to her family but sat off to the side.

“Miss Tyler, you are the highlight of this night. I don’t often find ladies capable of keeping up with a good polka.”

Happily flushed from the dance and elated at Lord Harkness’ easy going manner, Rose couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up from her chest. “It’s quite easy with such a graceful and talented partner. I must confess, Lord Harkness, you are nothing like most of the gentlemen in London I’ve met.”

“Good.” He smiled broadly and leaned into her conspiratorially. “They’re a bit pompous and a bit too starched for my liking. Nothing like the aristocrats abroad. And far from the freedom of expression and social restrictions in India. I understand you were acquainted with Reverend Lethbridge and often assisted in his good mission work.”

“Oh yes! I miss him and his wife.”

“And Mumbai,” Lord Harkness added with an arched brow. “I know I do. Such a vibrant people. So much potential and a spirit of adventure and discovery there.”

Rose didn’t think it proper to acknowledge his very provocative comment in London society even if she agreed with him. “I take it India calls to you, Lord Harkness. And you’re answering in the form of business with my father.”

“Indeed.” He nodded with another broad smile. “London is our past and the here and now. But abroad in places like India and the Americas, that’s the future and I want to be a part of it.”

Rose understood at a deep spiritual level. He sought adventure, the kind that left her heart pounding and her mind racing. As far as suitors went, she had to admit, he was a better match for her than most of the other wealthy and titled London gentlemen. 

But despite how solicitous and engaging he was, Rose still felt deep in her heart, something was missing. Although she could see herself engaged in dancing and even some interesting discussions with the handsome lord, her heart lay elsewhere.

************

Much to her dismay, Rose’s mother fell ill after the ball, requiring Rose to attend her during the next week. This meant Rose missed her weekly trip to the book shop. She stared down at her book, running her fingers over binding. She sent word to her cousin Amelia who she knew would be disappointed to cancel plans with her fiancé. Instead, the two hatched a plan.

“Amelia, please. I promised to return the book tomorrow and with mother ill, I’m prevented from meeting my obligation.” She grasped Amelia’s gloved hand as they sat in her parents’ sitting room.

“It would be improper for me to be with Rory in public without a third person as chaperone. You know this,” Amelia insisted, her face flushed with impatience.

“Yes, but now you have a legitimate reason to ask him to call on you.” Rose shoved the book at Amelia. “He’s your fiancé and no one would blink if you asked him to do a favour like delivering a book to a place he visits often on his own.” Amelia looked down at the book and tapped her fingers against the cover.

“I suppose,” Amelia drew out. “But there shall be a cost.” She directed a sharp look at Rose, who sighed and slumped forward even though she knew if her mother saw her poor posture there would be a lecture.

“All right. But Rory must deliver my note of thanks as well.”

“Note of thanks?” Amelia stiffened and arched a brow at her. “Rose, I do not think it proper--”

Rose interrupted her. “Oh come now, like--” She paused and glanced surreptitiously around before leaning into Amelia. “Certain observations I’ve made of you and your beloved--”

“Fine!” Amelia snapped quietly. “But I want to hear everything about your Lord Harkness.”

Rose straightened and clasped her hands in her lap. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“That’s not what I hear.” Amelia smirked and shifted closer to Rose. “I’ve heard stories about Lord Harkness. He’s wealthy, charming and quite handsome. He also leaves a long line of flushed and disappointed ladies in his wake.” Rose sighed.

“Yes, he is charming and handsome but there’s more to him than empty compliments or discussion of the weather. He’s lived abroad, is educated and not the least bit boring. He listens to me. I admit to finding him fascinating but that is all.” Rose remained firm. Amelia smiled slyly.

“Of course you are and you should be careful. His reputation is not without whispers of his amorous pursuits. Some say he speaks too openly and lacks décor and propriety and focuses too much on modern topics and scandalous morals abroad.” Rose didn’t doubt that was true based on her brief encounter. Personally, she found it refreshing.

The butler entered. He announced the topic of their discussion had written Rose a letter requesting permission to call upon their family to express his best wishes for her mother’s speedy recovery. Amelia’s eyes lighted.

“Clearly, he holds higher regards for you than you do for him,” she tartly commented. Rose left the note on the silver platter and instructed the servant to inform her father Lord Harkness expressed an interest on calling on them. She then turned to Amelia and withdrew a note card of her own from her pocket.

“Will you ask Rory to deliver this for me?”

“Only if I can read it first.”

“Amelia!” Rose gasped, scandalized by her cousin’s impertinent behaviour.

“You’re asking my fiancé to deliver it. He’ll refuse unless I can assure him of the propriety of the content.” Rose sighed and nodded.

After reading, Amelia tucked it into the book. “Cousin.” Amelia shook her head. “A fantasy story depicting a mad queen and an impertinent rabbit remind you of the restrictions of London society?”

“Well it does,” Rose defended, tipping her chin up rebelliously. “It’s fairy tale like setting is a thinly veiled and quite imaginative rendition of politics and parables involving virtuous choices and minding one’s manner lest one loses her head. I appreciate Mr. Carroll’s brilliant prose and am grateful to Mr. Smith for his recommendation. I might add it is well known the Queen enjoyed this particular fairy tale.”

Amelia sighed and tapped her fingers on the book. “Very well. I see no reason Rory can’t do this favour. I shall explain to him your insistence on returning the book in a timely manner and with a note depicting your gratitude to Mr. Smith.”

“Thank you, dear cousin.” Rose reached over and squeezed her hand.

“And you will share any tid bits about Lord Harkness with me,” Amelia insisted.

Rose leaned away and collapsed back on her chair. “If I must.”

“Yes, you certainly must.” Amelia punctuated her insistence with a nod. “Since I am sacrificing an outing with my fiancée and accomplishing this task, the least you can do is provide me with the latest gossip about the handsome lord.” 

She paused and smirked. “It will be ten times better than any illicit romance novel Mr. Smith may offer in his shop.” Both women giggled uncontrollably before Rose’s mother called for her ending their girl-talk.

***********

Lord Harkness did indeed call on the Tyler household. Peter Tyler was pleased to receive him as was Mrs. Tyler who always seemed to make a miraculous recovery to receive him. For his part, Lord Harkness remained solicitous providing Mrs. Tyler with various medicinal teas to assist with her recover. Of course, he often spent chaperoned time with Rose sharing more about his travels and discussing her interest in art and history.

After a week of her mother declaring her exhaustion and return to bed subsequent to receiving Lord Harkness, Rose grew suspicious. Her mother had never been keen on Rose’s interest in the book shop or any time her father escorted her to museums or one of his business meetings. Jacquelyn Tyler remained firm. Her daughter’s place was at home focusing on embroidery, music , gardening and keeping a household. Rose grew impatient.

Her father wisely intervened suggesting he could use some new reading material. Jacquelyn frowned but before she could object, Rose dashed out of the room to send a note to her cousin. A few hours later, the two women were in a carriage bound for London University and Amelia’s fiancé, Rory Williams.

Amelia beamed as they stepped away from their carriage. Even Rory seemed much more bright eyed, bowing deeper and his hand lingered grasping Amelia’s. Rose looked away pretending to straighten her navy coat over yellow striped ruffle skirts. She fussed when she saw her matching slippers were already dirty.

When Rory cleared his throat, Rose looked up and smiled. She admired the glowing love that shined around the couple. Rory in his brown suit and matching breeches appeared the epitome of the proper English gentlemen with Amelia in her navy skirts and button up bodice trimmed with lace, the perfect fiancée. She walked beside them passing the many students and professors in their stern black suits as they walked to Smith’s Books.

Rose could barely contain her giddiness as she entered the shop. The warm atmosphere and contentment at being surrounded by books immediately erased the tension of her mother’s constant demands. As Rory and Amelia strolled down one of the dark wooden bookcase-lined aisles, Rose’s gaze swept the shop.

Her shoulders sagged in disappointment at not finding Mr. Smith. She wandered toward the shelves with his newest literary acquisitions. As she examined a volume of Little Women, the bell to the shop jingled. The deep Northern burr of Mr. Smith captured her attention. Her cheeks flushed at how easily she recognized him.

The flush quickly vanished as she observed him escorting a tall, willowy blonde lady of great elegance. Her rich burgundy gown embellished in the finest lace and beadwork signified her standing and wealth. She elegantly tilted her head to the side, her fine silk hat barely hiding her coquettish smile directed at Mr. Smith.

Any other day Rose would admire his tall figure in the long black coat, strong jaw and broad shoulders. But that day, her chest constricted with an emotion she refused to admit was disappointment. The lady with him, spoke in a French accented voice, cultured and cajoling. He smiled and nodded at her.

Rose bit her lip and turned to the side. Her observations felt invasive. Her heart ached as she listened to him laugh at whatever the lady said. This pain was only matched by the cold knot in her stomach combined with a sense of loss. 

The soft tone he used with the lady sounded the same as how he spoke to Rose. She’d foolishly thought they shared a connection – a bond of two souls who enjoyed the art of storytelling. Rose should have known it was nothing special. He was a purveyor of literature and often recommended books to his customers.

She internally chastised herself for being Alice and falling through the looking glass of Smith’s Books. That’s what this place was—an illusion and fantasy world where Rose escaped from responsibility and duty. Tears pricked at her eyes as she glanced at how the lady clung to his arm and tilted her head back laughing, acting bold and familiar. 

Jealousy surged forth in hot waves. Rose had to acknowledge it. The lady enjoyed what Rose wanted: freedom to enjoy the company of a gentlemen of intelligence and modern thinking. This place was tainted for Rose now. All she would know is her how esteemed Mr. Smith looked at another woman…No. He was never hers. He clearly belonged to the refined French lady. 

She wanted to disappear into the cracks in the floorboards. So much for her one sanctuary away from suitors and the never ending formality and boredom of London society. She shouldn’t feel this way. After all, she still loved to read. The only thing diminished was the intimate conversation about the stories she loved with a man who seemed to understand her. Now she knew he didn’t. It was all an act by a good salesman.

“Miss Tyler.” Rose wanted to flinch. Mr. Smith made his way to her, bowing, his lady still attached to his side.

“Mr. Smith,” she greeted formally and inclined her head. He paused, a slight frown marring his face. 

“I hope your mother is well. Lord Williams returned the book with your note of apology. I assure you there was no need, especially under the circumstances.”

Rose directed her gaze at the blonde haired, blue eyed lady who inspected her from head to toe in a most aristocratic manner.

“Forgive my manners,” Mr. Smith nodded. “Lady Reinette Poisson, Miss Rose Tyler, one of my faithful clients and a student of literature.” He paused until Rose curtsied. “Miss Tyler, Lady Reinette Poisson newly arrived from Paris and seeking knowledge about our great city and culture.”

Lady Poisson moved scandalously close to Mr. Smith. “Yes, my dear Mr. Smith is being quite the angel and providing me with a personal tour of the historic sites as well as his librairie,” she finished in French with fluttering eyes. 

Rose did her best to subdue her inner need to chastise the clearly more worldly and flirtatious older woman for her scandalous behaviour and how she petted Mr. Smith. Rose reminded herself that was something her mother would do and she wasn’t her mother.

Instead, she straightened her shoulders and schooled her face with a polite blank expression. Although, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment for Mr. Smith who she was happy to note, stilled at Lady Poisson’s familiarity.

“I know from Mr. Smith’s commentary on the works of Ms. Austin and Mr. Dickens, he is quite knowledgeable of the geography and history of our country. I’m sure you are in capable hands.”

“Quite capable,” she agreed in a drawling accented voice. Rose could not tolerate one more tawdry purr of the woman’s voice.

“Then I shall leave you to it.” She turned and blindly pulled out a book, refusing to look at the couple only seeking escape.

“Miss Tyler, please.” She ignored Mr. Smith’s insistent tone. It was too late to for him to proclaim his innocence. She once thought him finer than any English gentlemen paying her court. Now she realized how naive she’d been. As she was storming around them, she ran smack into the blue frock coat covered chest of Lord Harkness. He grasped her elbows as she stumbled backwards.

“Lord Harkness,” she gasped as she met his amused gaze.

“Your mother suggested you’d enjoy a surprise.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice and Rose’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. Of course, her marriage minded mother would be so bold as to send the gentlemen after her.

“Yes, I’m afraid I was so consumed with my book I didn’t pay attention. I’m sorry.”

“Nonsense, I refuse to allow any blame to fall on such a lovely lady.” He peered down at her book. “A Tale of Two Cities.” It wasn’t Rose’s normal taste in novels but perhaps it was God’s work to teach her a lesson after her encounter with Mr. Smith and Lady Poisson. 

“Not quite the light romantic reading material of most ladies,” Lord Harkness noted.

“No, I supposed it isn’t,” Rose agreed uneasily. “But father and I often share literature for discussion.” She winced at how she stumbled over her words. It wasn’t like she was incapable of understanding the political strife in the novel and Mr. Smith had already discussed it with her. Her mother would be appalled feeling it inappropriate for a lady to be reading what Jacqueline Tyler deemed turbulent masculine affairs. 

Mr. Smith cleared his throat drawing attention to himself. Rose caught the eyes of Lady Poisson inspecting Lord Harkness and a strange sensation of rebellion consumed her. Lord Harkness seemed to be equally inspecting the lady. Rose’s jaw clenched. She was no pale, withdrawing woman to be ignored and set aside as unimportant in favour of some voluptuous French Courtesan. 

“Forgive me,” Rose stated in a hard tone she rarely used. “Lord Harkness this is Mr. Jonathon Smith, proprietor of this fine establishment and his companion is Lady Reinette Poisson.” Rose sidled close to Lord Harkness, propriety be damned. She staked her claim, no matter if she had no intentions on following through with said claim.

“Lady Poisson, Mr. Smith, this is Lord Jack Harkness, an esteemed friend of my family.”

Lord Harkness bowed deeply and Lady Poisson held out her delicate, white gloved hand. Lord Harkness, accepted with the slightest brush of his lips over her knuckles. Rose tensed, her neck heated. She’d never been one to seek out attention or masculine attention but after being ignored and treated almost as if she was an afterthought, her ego reared up.

“Lord Harkness.” Mr. Smith’s tone hardened along with his face. Gone was the kindly and solicitous gentlemen who discussed books with her. Even the confused expression from earlier when Rose treated him with indifference disappeared. Piercing blue eyes seemed to skewer Lord Harkness.

Lord Harkness, in return, appeared amused and relaxed. Rose bit her lip nervously clutching the book in her hands as if it would run away. What was happening? Mr. Smith had no call for such a reaction given his earlier behaviour. Lady Poisson either ignored the tension or revelled in it. An uncharitable part of Rose made the assessment the lady enjoyed the attention.

“Yes, well I should be making my purchase and leaving Mr. Smith to his customers,” Rose inserted to end the discomfort of this confrontation.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can help you with, Miss Tyler.” Mr. Smith’s tone softened and his gaze once again landed on Rose. “Perhaps you’d like to try some poetry? I procured some of the works of Miss Emily Dickinson who we discussed a few weeks past.”

Rose’s jealousy ebbed at his gentle tone and how he remembered her interest in the poet. Perhaps she had misjudged him. No other man had listened so thoroughly to her as to procure literature. Much less from a conversation she thought was in passing. A slight smile curved her lips.

“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Smith.”

“I’m quite fond of poetry myself,” Lord Harkness admitted. “Perhaps we could read it together?”

Mr. Smith frowned. Lady Poisson stepped forward. “I would enjoy such a discussion, Lord Harkness. My country has produced some of the most prolific romantics in modern times.”

Thankfully Amelia and Rory appeared at Rose’s side.

“Rose, perhaps you could introduce us to your friends?” Amy stated in her precise and cutting way. Her eyes narrowed on Lady Poisson. Rory paled and shifted nervously foot to foot.

Rose made introductions. Amy ignored Lady Poisson whose smile ebbed. Rose didn’t want to admit the pleasure coursing through at the slight. She also didn’t miss the lightness returning to Mr. Smith’s eyes as he watched the formal greetings and drama silently ensuing. 

It all ended with Lord Harkness insisting on escorting she, Amelia and Rory to lunch at one of the more exclusive dining establishments in London. Amelia accepted the invitation for all of them even though Rose held concerns about being seen publically with Lord Harkness. 

Her concerns were swept aside as she tried to assert a need to return to her mother. Apparently, her father was in town on business and had already established the luncheon with Lord Harkness and it was a simple matter to add to their group.

Rose directed one last look at Mr. Smith who put distance between himself and Lady Poisson. He checked out Rose’s book himself, taking his time to quietly register her name.

“Perhaps next week we can discuss the poetry you procured, Mr. Smith?” She couldn’t hide the slight hope in her voice. “If you are not otherwise disposed.” She eyed Lady Poisson who seemed to eye another older gentlemen in the busy shop.

“It would be my honour and pleasure.” His eyes again hardened as Lord Harkness took her arm before again, focusing his attention on her in a way leaving her warm and content. 

Rose hated to leave. She wanted to stay and talk to Mr. Smith about their encounter that day and how much she appreciated him. As Lord Harkness led her away, she realized the warmth and comfort of discussions with Mr. Smith were what she missed during this whole matter of courting thrust upon her. She barely paid her handsome escort a thought as she looked forward to returning to Mr. Smith in a week’s time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry this update took so long but I was stuck. Thank you again to Hellostarlight20 who listened to my ideas and offered up feedback. This chapter would not be here without her help.

The last customer exited the book shop wishing Jonathon good night. He locked the door and pulled down the shades before allowing himself to slump against the wood front counter. When he first opened his shop, the work remained continuous distracting him from his past. But now he achieved success, his evenings left him with little to do other than fight back memories of loss, fire, destruction and death. 

Smith’s Books was both his saviour and his penance. His present day began as every other day, trying to make amends for his sins and help those in need. His morning project was one of his customers: an orphaned boy barely surviving on the streets. Jonathon had contacted a distant cousin, Lady Sarah Jane Smith, who held it as her mission to help the less fortunate. The two spent a few hours persuading the boy to allow them to help him. Eventually, Sarah Jane offered the boy a job. Too proud to accept charity, the lad accepted a position in her house.

Jonathon may not see the boy as much in his shop, but at least the lad would enjoy a hot meal and a roof over his head. Pleased with saving at least one lost soul, he’d taken a walk through the park on his way back to the shop. Again, the day presented him with opportunities to make amends for past transgressions.

He spotted two swarthy looking men with dubious intent as they stalked a lady strolling alone. It briefly occurred to him, no proper lady would walk the park unescorted. But the more immediate need was to see her safe from potential harm. He’d long since refused to engage in violent confrontations but maintained a strong, tall frame easily capable of defending a lady from petty criminals.

He’d swiftly intervened using his walking stick to trip up the thieves. Unfortunately, the lady who he soon learned was Lady Jeanne Poisson, insisted on thanking him properly with a cup of tea. Not one to desire praise or thanks, he tried to extract himself to no avail. The wealthy lady, who made sure he knew she was a widow on a trip from Paris, soon attached herself to his side. 

Although he found Lady Poisson educated and well cultured, he was not of a mind to encourage her bold behaviour. Courtship and marriage were not for someone like him. Nor, was entangling himself in any type of salacious relationship. Despite his brusque refusals, the lady persisted until he found himself escorting her into his shop. And then his day turned for the worse.

His lovely customer, Miss Rose Tyler who he had not seen in weeks, arrived at his store. It simultaneously lightened and distressed him. The ache in his chest still persisted as his thoughts turned to their encounter. He paced around the dimly lit shop in agitation. Miss Tyler’s face had conveyed her disapproval of Lady Poisson’s indelicate if not improper demeanour. He stopped at a shelf containing Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. 

His chest tightened. He was in the middle of a Jane Austen novel. Him, a man who dedicated his life to avoiding romantic entanglements was now the subject of one such fictional encounter. He hopped away from the book as if its very presence seared him. And yet he could not deny the parallels. Especially since Lord Jack Harkness, the heir to the Earl of Torchwood, walked into his shop and away with his dear Miss Tyler.

He hadn’t revealed it at the time, but he knew Lord Harkness. Just as the suave and charming gentlemen knew him. The memories fell upon him like a thunderstorm rolling in stealing away a spring afternoon with loud booms and crashing lightening. He pressed his fingers to his temples as if he could banish the thoughts. Jonathon could wish all he wanted but such a violent and bloody past couldn’t be forgotten. Nor could Lord Harkness part in it.

He’d left the burned ruins of his family home and the tragic loss of his family behind joining the army as an officer. Jonathon found no solace in his assignment in India. Poverty, corruption and those looking for profit flooded the hot, dusty streets. His own countrymen were some of the worst. Men like Lord Harkness and his father enjoyed a lifestyle of loose morals, gambling, women and black market profiteering.

Jonathon’s heart pounded in his chest and sweat beaded his brow. Jack Harkness hadn’t been the worst, just young and foolish following his father’s lead. Clever for his age and accustomed to using his fine looks to his advantage, Jack made terrible mistakes just like Jonathon. And it was Jonathon who helped the young Lord Harkness escape from greedy smugglers. The Earl never should have sent his son to do his own dirty work.

Miss Tyler deserved better even if Lord Harkness had cleaned up some of his more morally ambiguous activities. With her generous and kindly demeanour combined with her inquisitive and quick intellect, Miss Tyler deserved only the best. The thought cut through him. Yes, she deserved the best. Not some aristocrat adventurer focused on pleasure and his selfish needs; and not some broken down, book seller with a dark past. 

Again, he found himself thinking about Jane Austen. Miss Tyler was courted by a shady representation of Willoughby and yet…she was no Marianne. Quite the contrary. He always thought her closer in character to Elinor. Wise beyond her years, Miss Tyler was caring, smart and practical with leanings toward a more romantic nature which she carefully kept in check. 

Miss Tyler did not seem the type to be swept away by a pretty face. Nor did she strike him as the type of woman with a proclivity toward dashing men of questionable virtue. He swallowed hard. If Lord Harkness was Willoughby than that would make him…he stumbled backwards and collapsed against the front counter. 

No. He needed to sweep all of this, the whole day from his mind. No Lady Poisson attempting to cajole him into some feminine plan. No Miss Tyler staring at him hurtfully as said French Lady subtly laced conversation with unpleasant and potentially vindictive comments.

Try as he might, he could not erase Miss Tyler’s bright smile or frown from his mind. Nor could he ignore how Lord Harkness swept her out of his shop. Like Colonel Brandon in Miss Austen’s novel, his mind raced at how and if he should intervene. His head pounding, he shut down the shop and trudged up the wooden stairs to his private quarters. 

As he prepared for bed, he gazed down at the book on his bedside table about others in sometimes morally ambiguous situations, Great Expectations. His purpose clarified. He would not stand idle while such a fine young lady was swindled into a marriage sure to be riddled with infidelity and danger. This was no different than saving the young boy earlier that day. Jonathon would act her champion. As his eyes slipped shut, one final irritation pounded in his head. How to achieve his good deed and at what cost?

#

A week later, Jonathon waited with eagerness and nervous anticipation that transferred into an effusive energy as he greeted his customers. As he made his rounds, he greeted one of his favourite customers, Mr. Wilfred Mott. They debated the ethics of gambling, jumping frogs and the veracity of extraordinary American tales. Every time the front door bells jingled, his attention wavered from the discussion. But it wasn’t until Miss Tyler arrived, Mr. Mott’s face lit up with a knowing smile. 

“I do believe your attention is required elsewhere,” he suggested slyly.

“Nonsense!” Jonathon proclaimed although he glanced at his lovely customer and observed her darting a few furtive looks in his direction before shyly turning away.

“Mr. Smith, I assure you, I shall take no offense should your attention and expertise be required elsewhere.” Jonathon’s neck flushed at Mr. Mott’s sparkling blue eyes. “Go on then,” Mr. Mott continued making a shooing motion with his hand.

“Mr. Mott, if you will excuse me.” Jonathon inclined his head before searching the store for Miss Tyler. When his eyes lit upon her dressed in her long light blue gown ruffled in a fashionable way, his heart slammed in his chest. All his plans and carefully plotted ideas vanished. She stood innocently contemplating reading material. And there was him about to reveal information that may very well break her heart.

Was he correct in his thinking? Was his plan to disclose Lord Harkness’ past and current reputation in her best interest? His throat felt thick as he swallowed. Jonathan feared his own selfish feelings may interfere. He had no right to meddle in her family’s plans for her future. A man with his selfish and tarnished past had no call to cast disparagements against Lord Harkness. But then her gaze landed on him and she smiled.

It was as if the sun streamed through the front window warming him and erasing his doubts. How could he not protect this cherished, intelligent woman? He strode forward attempting to repress the lightness to this step.

“Miss Tyler,” Jonathon greeted and bowed slightly.

“Mr. Smith,” she returned with a curtsey. “Father and I enjoyed A Tale of Two Cities. Although, I profess it was not my preferred fiction.” A warmth infused him at her presence and her enthusiasm over the book she picked up and shared with her father. Again, he sensed an older soul contained with his young lady at her appreciation for the material. It spoke volumes as to her maturity that she enjoyed an intellectual relationship with her father who she clearly respected. 

“I’m glad. Please send your father my regards and that I and my shop are available to service his literary needs.” He cleared his throat as she beamed at him even brighter. He stumbled over his next words. “Perhaps today, you would allow me to offer some lighter reading?” 

“I place myself in your capable hands, Mr. Smith.” He nearly tripped at her words as he escorted her toward an area off to the side of the front counter. 

“Mr. Smith,” she began with hesitation, as he reached for a book behind the counter. She worried over a loose thread on her white gloves. “I must apologize for my behaviour last week.”

“For what?” he asked, his voice pitching up and at a loss for words. Her behaviour in his eyes had been without reproach. She looked up into his eyes, a tiny furrow marring her brow.

“I was quite abrupt with you and your friend, Lady Poisson.” He stilled as she looked downward and again, his esteem for her expanded until he thought his chest might explode. 

“I fear I allowed myself to fall into the sensational habits of many ladies I have socialized with of late. I swore long ago I would not make quick judgments based on a brief encounter with a person; or allow petty jealousy or preconceived notions to influence my conduct. Truly, you are a kind and most noble gentlemen and I hope you will accept my regrets. I would be ever so grateful if you could convey my apology to Lady Poisson.” She spoke quickly but with heartfelt words.

Her clearly emotional confession firmed up Jonathon’s resolve. Miss Tyler may be young and innocent to certain aspects of London Society, but she possessed a sincerity he admired. Very rarely did he encounter a person raised in the privilege her family enjoyed who remained so grounded and aware of human nature.

“Dear Miss Tyler, you owe me no apologies. It is I who should apologize to you.” He set a book down on the counter, discretely leaning closer to her. “My conduct was not true and I fear in an effort to avoid potential conflicts, I failed to act the noble man you think me.”

“Mr. Smith, whatever you may think of yourself, please know I do hold you in the highest regard,” Miss Tyler emphasized.

“You shouldn’t,” he quickly inserted. “When you introduced Lord Harkness, both he and I failed to admit we had met previously and I’m afraid, in less than polite circumstances.” Miss Tyler cocked her head to the side and clasped her hands before her.

“I don’t understand.” He released a pent up breath as tension twisted across his chest. 

“I was less than honest and so too was Lord Harkness. I cannot say his reasons. Mine were due to the unpleasant circumstances of our initial meeting, circumstances which I fear follow Lord Harkness even now in London.” Her face fell and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and adjusted her floral embellished hat.

“Mr. Smith, I may appear delicate and refined but I am not so sensitive that I cannot accept the less than savoury behaviour of men.” She faced him directly with her shoulders back as if prepared for battle. “I was raised in India and witnessed poverty, death and things no proper lady of London society would normally see. If you know something about Lord Harkness which might damage the reputation of my family, I must insist you disclose it.”

“Very well.” He nodded again appreciating her candour and directness. “Lord Harkness and I met in India whilst I was serving in the Army and he served his father. As you may well be aware, circumstances in India are not ideal and often our own citizens engaged in less than legal--” Lady Amelia Pond and Lord Rory Williams interrupted him. 

“Is there a problem, Rose?” Lady Pond tartly asked, her eyes narrowed on him like a hunter aiming at his prey.

“No,” Miss Tyler answered easily and with a soft smile. “Mr. Smith was relating to me how much Father and I would enjoy _The Three Musketeers_. She picked up the book and held it close to her chest turning her gaze back to Jonathon. “I look forward to enjoying this story. It’s--” She paused looking at him expectantly.

“Quite the adventure story,” he completed. “I’m sure you’ll find the characters engaging and look forward to hearing how you and your father enjoy the story.”

“Yes, of course,” Miss Tyler agreed. “Thank you, Mr. Smith, for everything. Until next week.” She curtsied and walked out with her escorts leaving Jonathon, deflated and uncertain. He had anticipated being unable to fully explain the reasons for his actions of the prior week. He only hoped Miss Tyler was not offended by his special addition to the book. 

A knot formed in his stomach. And despair stabbed him in the heart. What if he’d gone too far and never saw her again? A customer called his name shaking him from the pit of uncertainty. He plastered a neutral expression on his face and continued with his day far less enthusiastic than he began it.

#

Rose was unsure what to think as she sat beside Amelia on the carriage ride home. Luckily, her cousin was focused on unending complaints and criticism of Rory’s family and their choices for a wedding date. Apparently, it seemed they were in no hurry to see him married and even less interested in participating in the planning of the blessed event.

By the time they reached Rose’s home, Amelia paused and laid a hand on her arm.

“Rose, did Mr. Smith say something to you about that French woman?” the bite in Amelia’s voice had not lessened. Rose remembered the many sharp comments Amelia had made about Lady Poisson’s overly familiar gestures with Mr. Smith that bordered on indecent. Not to mention how she spoke to Rose in an arrogant and less than polite way.

“No, Amelia, he apologized to me after I apologized to him for acting petulant.”

“You!” Amelia declared in outrage. “Nonsense! Your conduct was beyond reproach and you had no need to apologize.” Amelia sat back and straightened her long mint green skirts. “Although I am glad to hear he expressed his regrets for allowing such an unrepentant woman of questionable virtue into his shop.”

“Mr. Smith is too kind and too much a gentlemen to oust even such an outspoken lady,” Rose responded, thinking of him in his long brown coat and blue waistcoat matching his eyes. Her eyes drew down to the book in her lap and she noticed a corner of paper sticking out of the pages. The carriage rolled to a stop.

“I suppose,” Amelia drew out and sighed in exasperation. “Still, he’d do well to remember it is upstanding gentlemen and ladies like us that patronize his establishment.” Rose smiled softly at Amelia. 

“Yes, I’m sure he does. After all, the questionable lady wasn’t in the shop this week was she?” A lighter note lit Rose’s voice. She dare not admit it, but the absence of Lady Poisson elevated her mood and especially as Mr. Smith acted so solicitous of her.

“True. Or perhaps it was Lord Harkness’ presence last week.” A sly smile lighted Amelia’s face. “You saw how the lady’s eyes never left him yet it was you he escorted to luncheon. I’ll wager she wasn’t used to being so ignored.”

“But she wasn’t ignored was she?” Rose pointed out as she arranged her light blue skirts in preparation to exit. “And Lord Harkness acted distracted throughout our luncheon and has been indisposed this past week. Mother is beside herself blaming me for not being more attentive or showing him my needlepoint. Clearly, if I had, he would be on bended knee in awe of my skill.” Rose intoned in a dramatic voice while rolling her eyes.

“Lord Harkness was more interested in your décolletage.” Amelia tartly retorted with a wicked smirk.

“Amelia!” Rose chastised with a giggle. “You wicked girl!” Rose looked out the open door of the carriage toward the house. “You mustn’t let mother hear you talk like that!”

“She should know Lord Harkness’ reputation. Besides, it would probably make her happy to know you so captivate him.”

“Perhaps. We shall see if my fine morals and décolletage draws him back over the next week.” On that note, Rose exited the carriage. Once inside, she walked straight to her quarters and shut the door, curling up on a chair by the window.

She wasted no time opening the book to find a folded piece of parchment with black scrolling writing. Her heart pounded at the first words: 

_Miss Tyler, please forgive this most forward method of communication._

Rose darted a nervous look at the door. Mr. Smith had written her a letter secreting it into her book not unlike one of the more daring romance novels she’d read. Her cheeks flushed at the thought. Rose sighed thinking about him writing to her, his tall frame bent over a desk, the light highlighting his classic profile. Perhaps he even spoke the words as he wrote, in that voice that would melt even the most hardened heart. 

Such correspondence was clearly illicit and violated all propriety. Rose didn’t care. She carefully smoothed out the paper across the pages of the book and continued to read.

_Please know first, I hold you in the greatest esteem and would never wish to commit any act to bring harm to you or your reputation. In fact, it is due to my respect of you I feel duty bound to disclose matters regarding your recent escort, Lord Harkness._

_Lord Harkness and I first met in India ten years ago. I, on assignment with the Royal Army and he assisting his father, the Earl, on family business. I’m sorry to say, the Earl’s dealings involved matters of less than honourable intent involving gambling, misuse of the local population and illicit procurement of prohibited items of nefarious use. I could see his son distraught but choosing to ease his conscious with gambling and matters best not mentioned. I was able to help extract him from one misadventure endangering his life. Soon after, he returned to Great Britain._

_I only tell you this dear lady, as I have learned his reputation currently reflects a character predisposed to similar actions as his father enjoyed in India. I wish you no distress, Miss Tyler, but I fear his behaviour may reflect poorly on you and your family. I urge caution in all future dealings with Lord Harkness and humbly suggest your father inquire further as to his reputation._

_I feel certain your father, a man of honourable reputation, would not wish his daughter associated with one known for loose morals and questionable business practices. If your father finds your concerns insufficient, perhaps he would be amenable to speaking with me on the matter._

_I am more sorry than I can say to lay this burden on you. Please know your conduct and reputation remain beyond reproach. I shall always hold you in the highest regard and look forward to your intuitive and insightful remarks each visit. I pray you will find the strength to overcome this unfortunate turn of events._

_I remain your humble servant, Jonathon Smith._

As ecstatic as Rose was to receive personal correspondence from her beloved Mr. Smith, she was equally distressed by the content. Perhaps distressed was not correct, more disappointed and not surprised. Amelia had mentioned Lord Harkness had a reputation for leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him; and was quite well known for his more familiar conduct with the opposite sex. 

Rose did not cater to his whims as other young ladies. And he seemed to enjoy her refusal to offer him vacant compliments. He even encouraged their discussions regarding India and literature. But she did notice he kept part of himself guarded and never spoke of the details of his current life. And then there was his behaviour the prior week with Lady Poisson.

She slumped back against the chair and stared down at the letter. A slight smile curled the corners of her lips despite the unpleasant information the note delivered. Her humble servant. Oh how she wished that were true. The mere existence and thoughtfulness of this correspondence elevated Mr. Smith in her esteem. How she wished with all her heart it was him who courted her.

She folded up the note and tucked it into the pages of her private journal before holding the book to her breast. Tears pricked her eyes. Her mother would never listen and call this idle gossip. Too caught up in Lord Harkness title and holdings, her mother would scoff at anything Mr. Smith warned. And Rose knew her father had business with the Earl of Torchwood which would certainly complicate how he might react.

Although not keen on the idea of marriage just yet, Rose had been able to see herself with Lord Harkness. Not her ideal, but he was still much preferred to the stodgy and unyielding suitors currently on the marriage hunt. Again she sighed heavily. No, her ideal was a tall man of intellect and knowledge of literature who was so generous and kind for all who entered his shop.

The book sat leaden against her chest. She needed to do more than wish or daydream. There was only one course of action, one person her father would listen to and give merit to his opinion, Cousin Amelia’s fiancé, Lord Roderick Williams. 

Rose sat up, suddenly immersed in a craving for tea and Cousin Amelia’s cook’s butter biscuits. She stood with purpose, energized with a plan she felt certain Amelia would not dismiss. After all, nothing invigorated a lady’s day like delving into the sometimes salacious and often intriguing puzzle of London gossip.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord Harkness is the rake in this story. Just in case that bothers anyone. He has a wandering eye and right now it's on another lady. He hasn't really cheated on Rose since they were not engaged, but oh the scandal it will cause. More will be discussed on this in a later chapter ;)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this one. Sorry about the slow updates.

After proper greetings and commenting on the warm spring weather, Rose and Amelia settled in Amelia’s family garden. The servants delivered tea and biscuits to their table set amidst the vivid pink rose bushes. Rose fussed with the folds of her light floral print cotton gown and bit her lip in contemplation of how best to broach the unseemly topic of Lord Harkness. 

“I know you didn’t call just for tea and to compliment my mother’s roses,” Amelia said with an arched brow as she bit into a butter biscuit.

“Why Amelia, as if I would have ulterior motives other than visiting my beloved cousin.” Rose set her cup down and retrieved her fan to cool herself in the warm garden. 

“It’s Lord Harkness isn’t it?” Amelia drawled and shifted her chair closer to Rose, waving away a bee buzzing nearby. “Has something happened?”

Rose peered at the doorway to the main house to assure no one listened before leaning in closer to Amelia. “I’m afraid yes. It appears Lord Harkness may not be the fine gentlemen presented to society.”

“We knew that,” Amy responded tartly. 

“Yes, perhaps,” Rose agreed. “But I cannot impugn the gentlemen’s reputation based on London gossip. But, a respected friend has affirmed, through personal account, that inquiry into the gentlemen’s reputation may be wise. Especially, given his family’s business relationship with my father.”

“Personal account?” Amelia smiled and her eyes sparkled. “Whose pray tell?” Rose looked down at her lap. 

“Perhaps it would be best if you did not know.”

“Then why tell me now?” Amelia frowned and sat poised considering Rose. 

“Dear cousin, I would not involve you in my worries if I had another option,” Rose began and bit her lip. “I fear father may not listen unless he was to hear an account from a person he can trust.” Amelia snorted in a most unladylike manner.

“You want me to ask Rory to investigate Lord Harkness,” She stated gaze boring into Rose who flinched.

“Yes, if he would be so kind,” Rose affirmed in a soft voice. “My father would be ever so grateful for such a warning.”

“Rose, I cannot ask Rory to make such an inquiry without some reason, a valid suspicion as to why you question Lord Harkness’ intentions. He will insist! The very act of such an inquiry casts aspersions on the gentlemen. You know how London gossip is.”

“I do, Amelia, and I do not ask this lightly. This is a most serious matter. And not just for my own reputation and potential marriage but for my family’s honor.

“Then tell me who has made such serious allegations against Lord Harkness? Who has this account that you trust?” Rose slumped and picked at an applique flower on her gown. 

“If I tell you, will you promise to convince Rory to help me?” Amelia sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Rose, I cannot risk Rory’s reputation without just cause. I mean you no harm and will do all my power to help you. But I need honesty.” 

“Very well,” Rose said in a dejected tone and met Amelia’s gaze. “Mr. Smith provided me with the personal account.”

“The book seller?” Amelia asked and leaned forward. “How could a shop keeper know anything about Lord Harkness?” Her hard tone expressed disbelief. 

“He was in the Army in India. I know Lord Harkness was in India as well as he had already revealed that fact to me. Based on Mr. Smith’s account, Lord Harkness and his father both acted in less than gentlemanly manner. You and I have observed Lord Harkness familiarity and often outspoken if not bold behavior. Amelia you admitted he left a trail of broken hearts and he stared at my womanly attributes in a less than pure way. And I have seen him playing cards with my father.” Rose wadded up a linen napkin at the thought of how many times Lord Harkness won even when it seemed unlikely.

“Amelia this affects my entire family. Please, you must implore Rory to help us.” Rose leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table.

“Why should I trust Mr. Smith?”

“Because I trust him in this regard. He is a man of intelligence and reputation. He has nothing to gain by besmirching Lord Harkness. His kindness and concern shined true.” Amelia collapsed backward against the chair and shook her head. 

“Your father must have made inquiry or he wouldn’t have made an introduction.” Her voice faded as she stared into the garden deep in thought.

“My father tends to focus more on business and less on social status,” Rose reminded her, folding her hands in her lap. “Lord Harkness presents himself well. He’s intelligent, articulate and displays a sense of confidence my father would appreciate.” Amelia sighed heavily.

“Yes, yes I can see that. As brilliant in business as your father is, he does tend to avoid the social obligations and anything remotely associated with society gossip.” Amelia stared at her cooling tea. “I shall write to Rory today.” 

Rose reached across the table and grasped Amelia’s hand. “Thank you, dear cousin and thank you to your esteemed fiancé.”

“My dear Rory may not enjoy this task but you can rely on his discretion.” Amelia straightened her shoulders. “We shall get to the bottom of this matter and protect you and your family’s good name.”

#

Beside herself with worry and startling at every visitor to her home, Rose nervously focused on needlework poking herself repeatedly until her design was more a bloody battlefield than primrose decoration. The tension in the house thickened as her mother fretted at the lack of communication from Lord Harkness. To be ignored or thrust aside by a suitor would soon be the topic of much discussion amongst London society. Even her father, Peter, seemed distracted alternating between pacing his library at night and focusing on his business books.

Rose attempted to raise the subject at dinner one night.

“How is business, father?” she began tentatively.

“Rose,” her mother admonished in a typical exasperated tone. “That is not appropriate conversation for a lady at dinner. I’m sure Lord Harkness will want his wife to remain refined and demure discussing lighter less gentlemanly topics.” Rose bit her tongue and looked at her father expectantly.

Lord Peter Tyler’s blue eyes twinkled as he watched her and Rose could barely suppress the smile at his knowing look. Rose decided to use her mother’s mention of Lord Harkness to her advantage.

“Speaking of Lord Harkness,” Rose drew out. 

“Lord Harkness is besotted with you,” her mother immediately insisted as she vigorously stabbed a piece of venison on her plate. “It’s only a matter of time before he asks you to marry him.”

“Perhaps.” Rose nodded, choosing her words carefully. “But he has not been quite so attentive of late. Or at least, attentive towards me.”

“Maybe because you don’t pay him enough attention,” her mother retorted. Rose’s face flushed in resentment. She knotted her linen napkin in her lap.

“Our daughter has always acted a proper lady and treated all her suitors with charm and a reserved grace,” Peter inserted much to Rose’s shock. She watched her father’s gaze bore into her mother’s outraged expression. 

“Peter!” Jacqueline gasped. “Are you insinuating--” Peter cut her off.

“That Lord Harkness attempted certain liberties or familiar behavior with our daughter?” He sipped his wine. Jacqueline’s face reddened and Rose was sure her mother was about to hurl the cutlery at her father.

“Lord Harkness is a worldly man accustomed to ladies currying his favor. I knew Rose would match his intellect and command his respect no matter how overtly he solicited her affections or uttered romantic prose intended to weaken her resolve.” Rose preened as her father turned a proud gaze on her.

“He was a better man around Rose. Everyone could see he proffered far more respect toward her than any lady who may have captured his attention in the past,” Peter continued.

“Well, of course he did,” Jacqueline responded, now calmer and regaining her poise. “She’s our daughter, not one of these desperate London debutantes.”

“No, she’s not,” Peter added firmly. “She’s a woman of intellect.”

“Thank you, Father,” Rose said with heart felt warmth. “And I admit to finding Lord Harkness’ company engaging and his personality agreeable.” She paused, biting her lip in hesitation. “But I also observed his attention wandering to less reputable company.”

“You are referring to our luncheon the other day,” Peter acknowledged, with a sigh. Rose pursed her lips and stared at her father in shock. Her father knew yet he did nothing. Rose clasped her hands in her lap determined to find out why her parents seemed unconcerned with Lord Harkness clear lapse in propriety. 

“I fear he may have found a lady less concerned with reputation and with an inheritance far exceeding my dowry; and whose independent behavior matches his own,” Rose added.

“Nonsense!” Jackie chastised. “Lord Harkness appreciates your virtuous reputation and besides, his father clearly favors our family and your father’s success both in London and abroad. Family connections and virtue mean more than some cloying, overly ambitious woman.”

Rose wasn’t convinced by her mother. Her chest tightened as she watched her father ignore her mother’s comments and stare off in the distance lost in thoughts he did not share. He also didn’t speak more than a word or two the rest of dinner and barely touched his meal leaving the rest of dinner conversation to his wife. 

Rose felt a palpable tension sit heavy on her shoulders. Her concerns about Lord Harkness and her family’s interactions with the Earl of Torchwood now escalated. It all fell down to Rory and Rose didn’t know what to pray Rory discovered. 

#

Relief arrived a few days later when Amelia sent Rose an invitation to accompany her to town. Rose could barely contain her nerves as she dressed in a new olive silk dress with a burgundy, floral embroidered bodice. 

Amelia’s carriage rolled up to the house. Tying the black bow on her bonnet and tucking the borrowed book under her arm, Rose attempted to calmly walk down the stairs. Her mother had developed one of her headaches so Rose blessedly could escape without further interrogation. 

After a quick greeting, the two rode in silence. Rose nervously arranged the folds of her skirt until she thought she might go mad. It was Amelia’s calming hand resting on hers that finally stayed her nervous energy.

“Trust Rory.” Easy for Amelia to say. Her life and family did not hinge on her Rory’s news.

They stopped near the university where Rory waited on them dressed in his typical conservative black suit, hands clasped behind his back. He greeted them with less of his normal flushed exuberance. His mouth set in a straight line, he bowed stiffly.

“My dear ladies, we must speak in private at once.”

Rose could barely breathe at his somber tone. Her heart slammed in her chest and the blood rushed from her face. She pressed her gloved fingers to her forehead as the world spun around her. 

“Rose,” Amelia’s arm encircled her waist. 

“I’ll be all right. I just need fresh air.”

“Miss Tyler, I fear I have set this conversation off on the wrong foot. Please, calm yourself. I will not permit any harm to come to you or your family,” Rory assured.

“Listen to Rory,” Amelia insisted, her hand firmly clamped into Rose’s side. “No one is more honorable.” Rose watched the two share a warm look and calmed her racing heart. She did trust both of them as they had trusted her to keep their weekly meetings secret. 

“Mr. Smith has a private room set aside where we may talk,” Rory encouraged them to walk toward the book store.

“You have spoken with Mr. Smith on this matter?” Rose kept her voice calm and the subject vague in case any of the people they passed listened. The last thing she needed was to instigate more gossip.

“It seemed prudent.”

The group quickly arrived at the store. Mr. Smith stood off to the side speaking to a customer. He nodded at them and looked toward a black curtained door in a back corner. The three meandered around the store before discretely walking into the narrow back room lined with boxes, books and smelled heavily of ink. Rory produced two wooden chairs around small round table for the ladies.

#

Jonathon’s stomach dropped the moment Miss Tyler and her companions entered his shop and he caught sight of her distraught face. He wanted to comfort her, to clasp her hand in his and assure her he would protect her against any harm. It cut through him how pale and drawn she appeared. 

“I believe your assistance is required elsewhere,” Mr. Mott stated, inclining his grey haired head toward the back room.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mott. You know I enjoy our conversations,” Jonathon assured, torn between relief that his good friend understood his need to rush away; and concerned he revealed more than just a shop keepers interest in attending his customers.

“Never apologize for tending a lady in need,” Wilf responded a hand held up to stop Jonathon from apologizing further. Jonathon’s heart stuttered. Was it so obvious? Did everyone in the shop see Miss Tyler’s distress and how it affected him.

“There is a particular wisdom and insight that comes with age. It opens your eyes to things the young are unable to see or understand. Now run along and slay whatever dragons threaten our fair maiden.” 

Jonathon clamped his mouth shut, a slight warm amusement dispelling his previous concerns. Mr. Mott may be fanciful comparing him to knight but his accuracy regarding Jonathon’s mission wasn’t far from the truth. With an incline of his head, Jonathon excused himself and slipped into the back room.

“Lord Williams.” He bowed his head. 

“Mr. Smyth,” Lord Williams greeted. “Thank you for assisting us in this most delicate matter.”

“Enough pleasantries!” Miss Pond insisted, her cheeks flushed to match her ginger hair. “Enlighten us as to your news before my dear cousin collapses from worry.” Jonathon’s gaze landed on Miss Tyler and again, his stomach knotted at her drawn face as she sat slumped forward in a dejected state.

Lord Williams cleared his throat. “As you asked, Miss Tyler, I made several discrete inquiries into Lord Harkness’ reputation and I’m sorry to say, I concur with the news Mr. Smith delivered.”

Jonathon rushed to Miss Tyler’s side as she collapsed forward, her green gloved hands covering her face. Miss Pond’s chair scraped across the floor as she wrapped her arm around her cousin. Jonathon swallowed hard at his esteemed young lady’s distress. Lord Williams cleared his throat again. The two women sat up.

“It is my duty to disclose that Lord Harkness, the honor less blackguard,” Lord Williams laced his words with a simmering anger Jonathon shared. He clenched his hands at what he knew was about to be revealed and his unintentional part in the whole ugly affair.

“It is quite apparent despite Lord Harkness clear overtures toward you, he has been spending his time pursuing another lady of less than pure repute.”

“It’s Lady Poisson isn’t it?” Miss Tyler asked. Jonathon stood stiff clasping his hands behind him to prevent him from gathering her into his arms in comfort in a most improper manner. Guilt clenched his heart at the memory of how the instrument of her distress had been delivered in his store – the day Lady Poisson met Lord Harkness.

“How dare he!” Miss Pond’s face reddened further and her eyes narrowed in a way Jonathon thanked every deity the lady did not direct at him. “We cannot let this stand!”

“I agree,” Lord Williams acknowledged. “But we must first consider Miss Tyler’s reputation.”

“Although I agree with Lord Williams and due care must be taken to preserve Miss Tyler’s good name,” Jonathon added. “It will only be a matter of time before this scandalous news reaches polite society.”

“Quite correct, Mr. Smith.” Lord Williams paced a few steps forward. “Lord Harkness does not seem concerned with discretion. It did not take much inquiry to learn he was observed leaving Lady Poisson’s house in the early morning hours.”

“And how many people observed this?” Miss Pond asked in a tight voice whilst Miss Tyler sat resolved, her chin titled up but her eyes reflecting sadness Jonathon could not bear.

“Too many,” Jonathon agreed having recalled the far more blunt conversation he had with Lord Williams the prior day. “And it goes well beyond slipping out of a lady’s bed chamber.”

“Mr. Smith!” Lord Williams admonished, sputtering and his faced reddening.

“The time for propriety is over,” Miss Tyler spoke, her words hesitant but strong. Jonathon knelt on the floor next to her.

“My dear Miss Tyler, I apologize for the necessity of such brutal truth. You deserve far better than having your name associated with a man who shows no honor.”

“Thank you, Mr. Smith, for your honesty and kindness.” A warm smile that did not reach her eyes graced her face. Jonathon again resisted the urge to clasp her hands in his.

“We cannot allow Rose to be dragged down with this honor less rake!” Amy clasped Rose’s hand. “You must tell your father at once so he can distance your family and his business from this filthy and deceitful ruiner of women!”

“I’ve tried,” Miss Tyler stated in a tired voice. “Just the other night at dinner I broached the subject. My mother refused to listen to one word against Lord Harkness and father--” She released a drawn out sigh. “He seemed aware Lord Harkness’ reputation might be besmirched and yet he said little after acknowledging the fact. I fear his business may be intricately involved with the Earl of Torchwood and there is little he can do.”

“Nonsense!” Jonathon stood, anger pulsing through him at how lost and dejected his Miss Tyler appeared. “Business is business and that which can be done can be undone. Family and reputation is not so resilient. I refuse to see your father as a powerless victim nor your family at the mercy of the Earl and son’s scandalous affairs.”

“I will speak to Lord Tyler,” Lord Williams asserted. Jonathon met the young man’s determine gaze. He once thought Lord Williams a besotted wealthy aristocrat with no substance. But over time, his young customer displayed a determination to make his own way. And now he showed a fire for justice that invigorated Jonathon.

“I am at your disposal should you require my assistance in persuading Lord Tyler.” Jonathon spoke without thinking. It wasn’t his place a warning voice whispered in the back of his head. His own past was not a shining beacon of propriety. Quite the contrary. He’d hidden himself from the condemning eyes of London society, joining the army, leaving the country and returning under a humble name not associated with his family or the tragedy he left behind.

Guilt chilled his zeal to help Miss Tyler. What could someone like him do to help her? She deserved so much better. But then he met her tear filled eyes and all the guilt at his own mistakes melted away.

“What if it’s too late?” Miss Tyler asked. “If Lord Williams found this out so easily and you, Mr. Smith, had such intimate knowledge of the gentlemen’s past, surely others will soon know.”

“We will take decisive action now,” Miss Pond stated and sprang up from her chair like a Valkyrie protecting her innocent cousin.

“No,” Jonathon stated decisively, his deep voice resonating with his conviction. “We won’t let any harm befall you. I’ve seen enough reputations of decent folk ruined by those with little disregard for anyone but their own selfish desires. I won’t let it happen again.” He strode over and knelt beside her and dared lay his hand on her tightly clasped hands.

“No one takes something from you unless you let them. Few of my customers enjoy your perceptive nature and ability to see through to the heart of an author’s work. I believe in you, Miss Tyler and I believe we, the four of us shall work through this attack on your good name.”

Their gazes met and Rose’s face flushed red and she looked down at his large hand cradling hers. “Thank you, Mr. Smith, for everything. You didn’t need to say anything or risk involvement in my social disaster of a life.”

“Nonsense. I could not stand by and watch a fine lady such as yourself suffer.”

“And you shall not suffer. Your behavior is beyond reproach,” Amelia tartly reminded her.

“Amelia is right,” Lord Williams stood beside her, his hand clasped with hers. “We, those of us of stout heart and good morals must stand up for what is right.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Miss Tyler’s voice shook with her gratitude. Jonathon withdrew from her side, his hand feeling suddenly empty. 

“We must not only approach this with aspersions cast against Lord Harkness,” Jonathon stated and paced a few steps, his mind whirling with a plan.

“Why not?” Lady Pond demanded. “He deserves all the blame and shame we can hurl at him.”

“Yes,” Jonathon agreed. “But we must assure to present Miss Tyler in a positive light as well.” He turned his attention back to Miss Tyler. “Lord Harkness could beg forgiveness for his errors. Society has forgiven others of higher birthright and wealth for more heinous acts and especially if they offer penance and redemption through marriage.” He almost choked on the word _marriage_. Anger flushed through him at the thought of Miss Tyler married to such a man.

But he had to give Rose the choice. If he immediately dispatched his idea without her input, he was no better than marriage minded matchmakers.

“Tell us Rose, what do you want? If Lord Harkness begs forgiveness and makes concessions toward your family, where would your feelings lay?”

Miss Tyler looked at each of the three in turn before standing. She nervously straightened her skirts and turned, walking a few steps deep in thought. She faced them, eyes hard and determined.

“I wish to be treated with respect and dignity; to have a voice and be free to learn. I would like one day to travel back to India.” She crossed her arms and stared off to the side for a brief moment. “I do not believe Lord Harkness would abuse me and he knows I yearn for India and did not express reservations on the subject. Yet I cannot forget his actions. To be married to such a man would be a ruse, a masquerade for I am sure he would continue his behavior using my respectability and family to shield him from further scrutiny.

“I would prefer not to marry him, if I have a choice.”

“Of course, you have a choice!” Lady Pond marched over to Miss Tyler and embraced her. 

“But I may not, Amelia.” Rose pulled from her grasp and looked toward Jonathon and Lord Williams.

“Mr. Smith has a valid point. Don’t you agree, Lord Williams?”

Lord Williams inclined his head. “It makes sense Lord Harkness may attempt to extricate himself by marriage. You could reject him. Many would understand.”

“But many more would blame me,” Miss Tyler stated and walked over to her chair, clasping the ornate wood back as if the very act would protect her.

“There is another way,” Jonathon proposed, standing erect, his heart slammed in his chest. The thought pounding in his mind shook him to his core. Sacrifices would be made all around.

His throat dried up as he pondered to what lengths he would go to save Miss Tyler. He once promised himself he would take any actions to help those in need, dedicate his life to others in order to make up for his past. What could be more right than helping this lady who deserved so much more, who brought a lightness and warmth into his life and his shop. How many more people could she help? He thought of his cousin, Sarah Jane, and how much alike the two women were.

He could remedy the problem. But did he have the courage? It would mean he would have to admit a slight deception to her and prove himself worthy to her father. His throat closed up at the thought but then he looked at her again, the flickering light shining down on her and his courage flared. Yes, he could do this for her. Not himself but for her. He could give her a life of respect and independence. He would ask nothing for himself.

“If there was another suitor, one with a title of equal measure who asked for Miss Tyler’s hand, it may thwart any attempt by Lord Harkness to remedy his scandal through marriage.”

“Lord Tyler could claim a competing marriage proposal,” Lord Williams smiled and nodded. “A legitimate competing suitor would provide a way for Lord Tyler to reject one proposal in favor of another.”

“Are you suggesting you have such a competing suitor willing to rescue my cousin?” Lady Pond demanded.

Jonathon ignored her, focusing all his attention on Miss Tyler.

“I don’t know, Mr. Smith. I have not had the best luck on the marriage market,” Miss Tyler confessed. “I’ve been approached by several eligible gentlemen and none showed very much inclination except for my dowry. Even with that, they find me unsuitable. And who would consider me given Lord Harkness made his pursuit of me quite public. I fear his scandal has already tarnished me and my family.”

Jonathon’s heart ached for her. Here was the loveliest most noble lady he’d ever met. And she found herself lacking where it was all those vacant, boring suitors who were the daft ones. They couldn’t see what an amazing and bright partner she would make any man.

“If you will allow me the chance--” He paused. He wasn’t sure what to say and the first thing that spilled out was not the exact truth. “to introduce an appropriate suitor for your hand to your father. One who will esteem you and appreciate your intellect and kindness more than your dowry.”

Miss Tyler stilled and stared at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Nerves picked away at his resolve. His neck heated and he broke out in a nervous sweat. She looked downward and her shoulders slumped forward almost as if in defeat. He needed to reassure his dear lady but the words stuck in his throat. 

But then she looked up and met his concern with resolve. “Yes, Mr. Smith, you have my consent. Lord Williams shall speak to my father and disclose the truth about Lord Harkness and the danger to my family’s reputation. And then shall make reference to a new suitor.”

He swallowed hard as she stepped closer to him. “I would feel better if you made the introductions of this suitor to my father, Mr. Smith. I know you are not acquainted with my father, but I have spoken of him about you and he already holds you in high regard.”

Jonathon could barely breathe much less speak. How could he explain to her the deception of his life, disclose the truth or the identity of the suitor who would be more than happy to marry her?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is un betaed. I just write for fun so don't worry much about typos etc. If that bothers you, then my writing will probably annoy you.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Rose stared at the book on her lap. She traced her fingers over the spine of her newest literary adventure. Was it only just a day since her life turned from a young lady highly regarded and expected to marry well to her life teetering on the cusp of scandal? 

Too emotionally wrought, she had silently returned The Three Musketeers to Mr. Smith with a note barely protruding from the pages. He in turn had handed her a book of poetry by Robert Browning. She’d accepted it with a soft thank you still too overwhelmed by all that transpired. 

Once home, she’d claimed a headache and tucked herself away in her room. Alone and consumed with the great task of saving her reputation ahead of her, Rose said prayers of thanks for the generous and kind assistance of Lord Williams and her beloved cousin, Amelia. It was no small favor they agreed to assist her with the delicate matter of Lord Harkness. And then there was her true savior. Warmth enveloped her as she thought of the tall, impressive figure of Mr. Smith. She could not forget his rumbling tone as he promised to defend her honor.

his solution, a new suitor, left her stomach clenched and wilted her normally positive demeanor. His offer of the introduction exceeded a gentlemen offering assistance to a lady in distress. Perhaps it was proof of the nobility of her modest book seller. Yet part of her, the romantic and fanciful girl, mourned this turn of events.

She shouldn’t. Her family’s honor could be in ruins and herself relegated to an unhappy and scandalous marriage with Lord Harkness. Mr. Smith had assured her this new suitor would esteem her but…she couldn’t stop fantasizing and wishing for another outcome, one where she and her handsome Mr. Smith found happiness together. 

Her father would never consent to such a match given Mr. Smith’s humble occupation even if her father respected his intellect. Her mother would be consumed in fury at the thought of her daughter married to someone untitled or dismissed by society as unimportant. Her mother was so focused on the Harkness title, she could see nothing else. Lady Jacqueline Tyler would surely forbid Rose ever visiting the shop. Rose’s heart cracked at the vary thought.

As with all things, Rose must be practical. Perhaps if Mr. Smith’s gentlemen friend was a good and kind man, she would still be able to visit the shop. She stared down at the linen cover hoping fervently for some further sign of Mr. Smith’s affections. She was rewarded with a slip of parchment paper tucked away amongst a poem, A Pretty Woman.

Her heart soared reading the poem and with great care she unfolded the note. She was greeted with the same scrawling handwriting and a giddy smile lighted her face.

_My dear Miss Tyler, by the time you receive this note we shall have spoken about your great matter. I know this news is disheartening and leaves you with great concern. I hope you shall not be offended by Lord Williams and I consulting on a course of action and advice for how to resolve this unhappy turn of events. Please let me assure you, your best interests and honor are at the heart of our efforts._

_In no way do I wish to cause offense or further distress. Please know I hold you in such esteem and respect. Your presence in my shop remains a highlight and our discussions of literature remind me of why I opened my shop -- to share great stories and engage others in discussion and debate as well as provide talented authors with the recognition they deserve._

_I thank you for your graciousness and insight. I hope no matter the outcome of this distressful matter, we may continue to share our combined enthusiasm for literature. Again, I beg your forgiveness for this impertinent method of communication and hope you do not find me too forward. Please hold yourself true and know there are still those in London society who shall stand up for honorable ladies against those who would disrespect their integrity._

Rose sighed and collapsed back against her chair, hugging the letter to her chest. It was wrong for them to correspond this way. And yet, she too had written him a similar letter thanking him for protecting her reputation and family honor despite the gravity of the news he disclosed.

She gazed out her bedroom window watching swallows dart around a flowering bush. Her stress ebbed. She wasn’t alone in dealing with the unhappy affair of Lord Harkness. She had much to be thankful for even if the process of disentangling herself would be unpleasant. Rose would be strong even if she couldn’t have her heart’s desire.

#

The next day after dinner, her father called Rose and her mother into his office. Rose knew by the deep lines etched in his face and how he’d barely touched his dinner, what the topic must be. As they sat near the fire in the cozy study, he paced the length of the book lined room, hands clasped behind his back.

“An unpleasant and distressing matter has been brought to my attention,” her father began. Her mother stilled and for the first time that night, seemed to pay attention to her father’s flustered state.

“Have you received ill news about your family?” Jacquelyn asked, sitting at attention, poised but ready to comfort her husband.

“No, this relates to our affiliation with men of questionable virtue and morals.”

“Lord Harkness,” Rose stated, refusing to sit still and do nothing. She met her father’s heavy stare. 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” her mother zealously defended. “I will not stand for one more slanderous accusation about Lord Harkness’ reputation. And I’m disappointed in you, Rose, for perpetuating evil and vile aspersions against his character!” Rose refused to back down.

“This is not about false accusations by London gossip,” Rose firmly replied. “People I respect have cautioned me about not just my own affiliation but that of our family with the Earl of Torchwood. As much as I am charmed by Lord Harkness, I cannot sit by while his behavior may cause harm to my family.”

“I shall not be lectured by my daughter who knows nothing of men or--”

“That’s enough, both of you,” Peter admonished in a biting voice.

“I’m sorry, father.” Rose clasped her hands in her lap and reigned back her anger at how her mother saw nothing but a title and not the actions of the man.

“I have been aware of certain behaviors that may reflect poorly on Lord Harkness and his father.” Peter stated. Her mother crossed her arms and looked away, cheeks flushed in anger.

“Lord Harkness is a vibrant man with a passion for life be it business or indulging in some slightly scandalous and unseemly past times. And I am not so unaware of the whispers and allegations of London society to be oblivious as to what others have said about his less than noble pursuits.”

“He’ll settle down once he marries Rose,” Jacqueline insisted. “I have heard these lies and refuse to believe the fine gentlemen who called on our house and provided such refined company is involved in anything scandalous.” Rose swallowed back what she wanted to say and watched her father.

“A polished exterior and refined manners are not what defines a man. His actions do.” Lord Tyler spoke with assurance and conviction.

“What sort of actions?” Jacqueline stubbornly demanded. Rose couldn’t sit still any longer.

“Ignoring a lady he claims to court in favor of French lady of questionable virtue who acts in a familiar manner most of good reputation would find shameful. And right in front of me and my good cousin, Amelia.” Rose turned an arched brow at her father who scrubbed at his face.

“Yes, I have heard similar accounts from his past as well as the matter at hand which distresses me and causes our family to fall under scrutiny.” He pulled out a fireplace tool and poked at the fire.

“Peter, this cannot be. Rose’s future is pinned on Lord Harkness,” Jacqueline insisted.. “Everyone has seen them together and commented on what a good match they make.”

“There will be no match,” Peter said in a hard tone.

“You can’t!” Jacqueline launched herself up, from the chair. “It will ruin Rose and our family! All of society will lay blame on us.” She turned a glare at Rose. Rose refused to look away. She was tired of being the demure daughter. Her conduct was not at question.

“Do not cast blame on our daughter,” Peter admonished. “Lord Harkness has taken up with another woman. He has made no effort at discretion and has been publically escorting the lady in town. I have several personal accounts on this matter including, Lord Williams, my dear niece’s fiancé.”

Jacqueline’s face paled and she collapsed in a rustle of lavender skirts on her chair. “This cannot be. He was so solicitous and spoke so well. Never was there a more charming gentlemen. How could he do this to Rose?” Tears in her eyes she faced Rose and clasped her hand. “I’m so sorry, darling. You tried to tell me and all I could see was what beautiful children you’d have. I just wanted you settled and happy.”

Rose swallowed hard at her mother’s distraught figure. She squeezed her hand in assurance. “It’s all right, mother, I know you wanted what was best. Lord Harkness struck a very handsome figure and many young ladies found him attractive. I’m sorry this has happened.” She turned to her father. “And what of your business arrangements with the Earl of Torchwood? How shall this affect us?”

“I shall handle the Earl. Our priority at the moment is your reputation and how society perceives you and our family given Lord Harkness public behavior. I confess, I had hoped his predisposition to a hedonistic life and interest in the questionable lady was temporary, the fleeting fancy of a young man. But it is clear he has made a choice and it is not Rose.” Rose’s chest tightened and she could barely breathe. Her mother wept openly at the distressing news.

She had to stay strong and follow through with the plans her friends formed. “Did Lord Williams offer any other news or suggestions of how to separate ourselves from Lord Harkness?” Peter offered a weak smile.

“He told me he had delivered the news to you first,” her father responded. Jacqueline perked up sputtering.

“To Rose? But he’s engaged to Amelia! And has no reason to speak to Rose about such horrible circumstances!”

“I believe it was due to his engagement to Amelia, and his understanding of Lord Harkness actions toward Rose, he felt the obligation to obtain her consent to speak to me.”

“For which I am grateful and in his debt,” Rose emphasized. “I would not allow him to speak to father if I had one hint of hope of resolving Lord Harkness’ behavior. In fact, Lord Williams had suggested a marriage still might be possible but at such a heavy cost to our family’s reputation.”

“But if Lord Harkness still makes an effort,” Jacqueline stated, a glint of hope in her eyes.

“Rose would still pay the ultimate price. Our good name would be tarnished for such an alliance and any actions Lord Harkness might take in the future would continue to blacken our name. I cannot condone such a match,” Peter stated firmly. Jacqueline again deflated against the chair and fanned her face.

“Lord Williams did offer another suggestion,” Rose stated coyly, straightening her skirts as she surreptitiously glanced at her father. He eyed her with speculation and a slight smile curved his mouth.

“Yes, he did.”

“Nothing can save us,” Jacqueline moaned dramatically. “All of this will ruin Rose’s chances for a decent match. Everyone knows she was being courted by that scoundrel!”

“Another competing suitor might,” Peter acknowledged. Jacqueline perked up and leaned forward.

“We have no competing suitors.”

“Lord Williams knows of a gentlemen who may be interested.” Rose held her breath waiting for her mother to respond. She knew this was the tricky part.

“Who? What are his credentials?” Jacqueline demanded. “We cannot fall down the path of another like Lord Harkness.” She now spoke the lord’s name with bitterness. Rose hoped that same vitriol would not be directed at Mr. Smith.

“A gentlemen who has retired from London society to live a quite life and one who will reveal himself tomorrow night,” Peter explained. Jacqueline’s face pinched.

“That does not sound promising or alieve my battered nerves.”

“I trust your judgement, father,” Rose stated with a confidence she didn’t really feel.

“It was your father’s judgment that introduced you to Lord Harkness,” Jacqueline snapped. Rose’s jaw dropped. This was not a conversation she wished to be in the middle of. 

“And it was my judgment to accept Lord Harkness’ affections,” Rose defended. “And you, mother, were quite impressed with his manners and disposition. I think it’s safe to say, we were all fooled. That does not mean I ceased trusting you or father or my own good senses. The truth is we must extricate ourselves from Lord Harkness and not be manipulated into a marriage with no merit and that could ruin all of us.” Rose faced her father. “Please father, meet this suitor and judge him accordingly.”

“Let us hope we can settle this unpleasantness tomorrow before further damage falls on our family,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

#

Jonathon’s modest black carriage rolled up to the Tyler residence. He squirmed in his best formal suit, the long coat buttoned up to his ascot. Rolling his shoulders nervously, he picked at his glove covered fingers. A nervous energy heated him uncomfortably.

What was he doing? As the footman opened the door, he replayed the scene in the back of his shop over and over again. Yes, it was his voice promising to protect Miss Tyler. He was the fool suggesting a competing suitor. Bloody hell he was an idiot.

But then he remembered her smile and the light of enthusiasm lighting her eyes as they discussed Oliver Twist. And then there was her letter. He swallowed hard at the thought of how she wrote with a formality but still imbued her warmth in every word:

_Mr. Smith, I fear I cannot possibly express the extent of my gratitude for all your kindness and assistance. Your correspondence was a happy respite from an otherwise untenable social travesty. Please know your good and decent efforts do not go unappreciated. I know you are a humble man but you must know how much you mean to your customers. You and your shop bring much needed comfort and allow your patrons the liberty to immerse ourselves in great literary works. Thank you, Mr. Smith, for being my guide in the literary world and if I may be so bold, for being a true and faithful friend._

His neck heated as he thought on her last line. He hoped she still thought him a faithful friend after he completed his task this very night. Although his feet itched to run away from what lay ahead, his resolve firmed at the thought of her forced into a marriage with Lord Harkness. She deserved better. Maybe he wasn’t the best option but he’d treat her like she deserved – with respect and appreciation of her intellect and insight. 

Before his resolve wavered again, he grabbed his black top hat from the seat next to him, placed it on his head, and ducked out of the carriage. He marched up to the front door, walking stick rhythmically thumping next to him before he rang the bell.

“Viscount of Gallifrey. I believe Lord Tyler is expecting me.” He puffed out his breath as the butler took his hat, gloves and walking stick and led him inside.

The house was as he expected: warm but formal with the typical crystal chandeliers, ostentatious artwork and ornate furnishings. The servant returned and motioned him from the formal sitting room, down a wood paneled hall to a library. He kept his expression blank even as his heart slammed in his chest.

Before him stood Lord Peter Tyler, the Earl of Powell with his wife and daughter sitting demurely in chairs near the fire. He bowed formally, fearing how Rose would react to his announcement. 

“Viscount,” Lord Tyler acknowledged, bowing slightly in return.

“Mr. Smith!” Rose gasped from a few feet away. He couldn’t ignore the shocked breathy quality of her voice and met her startled gaze. 

“The book seller,” Lady Tyler snidely remarked. 

“Yes, I--” He swallowed hard, his throat working to choke out the words.

Lord Tyler’s brown eyes narrowed on him and Jonathon hoped his thinning ginger hair did not reflect a matching temper.

“Yes, Lady Tyler, I run my businesses under my mother’s maiden name of Smith.”

“I see,” Lord Tyler said in a quite tone. “Perhaps we should discuss our business in private.” Jonathon nodded stiffly with one quick glance at Rose. He did not miss the furrow of her brow or way she clutched a delicate lace handkerchief to her chest.

Lady Tyler stood, eyes blazing and hands curled at her sides. “This is the solution you and Lord Williams contrived?” Mrs. Tyler asked her husband in a tone Jonathon would describe as shrieking. To his credit, he didn’t flinch and his gaze fixed on Mr. Tyler.

“Please excuse my wife,” Lord Tyler stated. “She’s overwrought from our unfortunate circumstances of which I have been informed you are well aware.”

“Overwrought!” Mrs. Tyler raised her voice and her face flushed crimson. “My daughter will not be bartered like a sack of goods by this shop keeper!”

“Mother,” Rose’s stern voice was the only respite Jonathon clung too and prevented him from doing what he most desired…leaving.

“Mr. Smith…I mean Viscount.” She paused and directed a much harder look at Jonathon causing him to look anywhere but at her. “is only here to help and I cannot in good conscious stand by whilst he is treated so discourteously.” Mrs. Tyler turned on Rose and Jonathon prepared to intervene to protect his dear Miss Tyler from what he perceived would be a motherly attack they all may not recover from.

“Jacqueline,” Lord Tyler’s booming voice echoed in the taught atmosphere. “I agree with Rose. And I think it best if you both retired early this evening. Clearly this matter has distressed both of you beyond courtesy and good manners.”

Mrs. Tyler’s posture straightened and she tilted her chin up before facing Jonathon. He refused to look away.

“Very well. Viscount,” she enunciated his title. “I apologize if in my zeal to protect my daughter, I insulted you. I shall leave you and my husband. Just know I shall not consent to any matrimonial plan until I am satisfied of any suitor’s good character and social standing.” She turned toward Rose and her face softened. “My daughter deserves only the finest gentlemen.” Her mouth a straight line and blue eyes cold as ice she glanced and Jonathon and her husband.

“Come along, Rose. Let us leave these gentlemen to their discussions.” She marched out of the room leaving an icy trail of disdain in her wake. Rose followed with hesitation. She glanced once at Jonathon, her hands clasped in front of her and paused.

“Rose,” Lord Tyler said softly, in a far more gentle tone. She turned toward him and a slight smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Trust in me I will always see to your best interests.” She nodded once and quickly left the library, the door shutting quietly behind her.

“Viscount,” Mr. Tyler said formally. “Or do you prefer Mr. Smith?” He walked over to a crystal decanter and poured two glasses of an amber liquid.

“Given our discussions this evening and the need for clarity and complete disclosure, perhaps my given name is best. My friends call me Jonathon.”

“Jonathon,” Mr. Tyler stated with an apprising look. “You may call me Mr. Tyler for although I agree our discussions must be grounded in complete honesty, the topic involves my precious daughter and the potential for her marital future. And if you are here to discuss what I believe you are--” He drew out his words and held a glass of liquor toward Jonathon. “Then any potential son-in-law of mine has to earn the right of my familiarity.”

Jonathon accepted the drink and sipped the cognac. The burning sensation down his throat did nothing to calm his nerves. Nor did Mr. Tyler who examined him in a way he had not experienced since he was a boy before his father awaiting judgment on an experiment involving his father’s favorite hound and whisky. But he was not a boy and his father was long gone. He was a man making amends in his life and didn’t have the luxury to cower.

“I am aware of your background,” Mr. Tyler spoke with assuredness. He set his glass down with a thud. “My condolences about your family. The fire was a tragic accident.”

“My family is long since gone and I’ve lived my life avoiding what took theirs.” Jonathon stared into in his cognac before setting it aside. “We aren’t here to discuss loss, my misspent youth or foolish actions of young men that destroy lives. We’re here to prevent another tragedy.”

“Perhaps but we are also here to talk about the man who offers to remedy the current unpleasant circumstances. And as a father, it’s my duty to assure I will not place my daughter in further harm or damage her reputation any further than it already is.”

“I would never do harm to your honorable daughter,” the words easily spilled forth and Jonathon’s courage bubbled up. “She extols all the virtues I admire most: humility, compassion, intelligence, bravery and a perseverance to overcome all adversity. Rarely does one find such qualities in most modern ladies of the aristocracy.”

Lord Tyler smiled and waved Jonathon to two blue velvet wingback chairs. Jonathon faced him, sitting stiffly, uncomfortable with how this conversation proceeded.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith, for your compliments. I happen to agree with you. My daughter is very special. And that is why our conversation must be less about social flattery and more to the point.”

“I agree,” Jonathon acknowledged. “I confess my social standing may not live up to Lady Tyler’s expectations. The title is all I have left from my family and the estate lies a burnt husk north of London. Not that I’ve visited since returning from my military tour three years ago.”

“And yet in the years since your loss, you have become a man I’m sure your father would be proud of,” Lord Tyler responded, inclining his head. Jonathon’s shoulders knotted at the praise.

“I know you do not want to talk about the past,” Lord Tyler continued. “But it is part of what made you the man you are. My family’s fortune had dwindled by the time I came of age. Everything I have now, I built. I respect a man who has done the same as you have.”

Jonathon swallowed hard. He hadn’t inquired into the Earl of Powell’s fortune. All that mattered was Miss Tyler. Respect for the Earl released some of his tension. Perhaps they had more in common than Jonathon first assumed. He waited for Lord Tyler to continue. 

“I am aware you have not been as fortunate as I in business but your investments have done well. But there is more to life than the accumulation of wealth.” Lord Tyler sat back, more relaxed and Jonathon did the same.

“Why a book store?” The question eased Jonathon’s reservations about this discussion of his past and prospects.

“My father was a stern man, focused on social standing and control of his estates.” Jonathon wasn’t sure why he talked so easily about a painful subject. “His secret passion was his library. My family spent many happy evenings reading, debating or playing cards surrounded by books. It was the memory I clung too in my grief after the fire.”

He paused and gazed at the flames dying in the fireplace. The faint scent of burning wood still caused him night terrors. He doubted he’d sleep that night after such raw memories were unearthed.

“You joined the military and served in India as I have been informed,” Lord Tyler pressed. “I understand that’s were you met Lord Harkness.”

“Yes,” Jonathon’s chest tightened at the thought. He fought back dark and terrible memories of that time as well. “Not the best of times.” He needed to get the conversation back to his purpose.

“I’m well established in London now. I’ll be expanding my book shop and invested in publishing as well as dabbled in mechanical manufacturing. I may not be as titled or wealthy as Lord Harkness, but will keep your daughter in the standard of living to which she is accustomed.” He ran out of breath and suddenly had a great need of the cognac.

Lord Tyler sat silently with an arched brow watching him. The air seemed thick and pressed inward against him. Jonathon’s head pounded with what a fool he was to think this would work.

“And you wanted to ask me something?” Lord Tyler suggested, staring so hard at Jonathon he thought sure a hole opened up in his chest. 

“Yes,” he choked out. Why was this so difficult? Deep in his core as his guts twisted and knotted. He knew very well why the words stuck in his throat. Fear of rejection. Fear of never seeing Miss Tyler again. He cleared his throat.

“What I mean to say is I would be honored if you would permit me to marry your daughter.” Once the words were out, shock chilled him to his core. He’d said it. He’d asked for her hand. 

Him, the fallen Viscount of Gallifrey, with no estate to speak of asked for the hand of the loveliest unmarried woman in London. All his blood drained from his head. He would not faint. It would be too undignified. Lord Tyler finally nodded and stood. Somehow Jonathon stood as well and faced him preparing himself for rejection.

“Thank you Jonathon, for your honesty and your offer. I shall, of course, need to time to consider your proposal and discuss it with my daughter.”

Jonathon lost all ability to speak. This was not how he anticipated this conversation.

“I understand. Of course you only want the best for your daughter.”

“I do,” Lord Tyler acknowledged. “And what is best for this family. In my heart, I feel I know what that is. But the circumstances are still complicated. I must extract us from certain obligations”

“I’m prepared to help with that in any way I can,” Jonathon assured. “I have contacts in many industries and a few still hold my father’s name in great esteem. If certain parties attempt to force matters, please know you have resources at your disposal.”

Lord Tyler grasped Jonathan’s hand firmly. He may not have answered with an immediate acceptance and discussion of marriage terms, but Jonathan felt certain, Lord Tyler knew Jonathan would keep his daughter safe.

As he walked out, he glanced at the stairs. Rose stood watching him. He swallowed hard at the mixture of hope and confusion reflected on her face.

“Good night, Mr. Smith,” Her voice caught on Smith before she ran up the stairs in a swish of skirts.

Jonathon paused, inhaling a deep breath. If this all worked out by some miracle, he would have another difficult conversation ahead of him with his hopefully soon to be fiancée. Somehow he expected that to be far more treacherous than his meeting with her father.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there 2 more chapters left but it could be 3 more ;) Thank you everyone for reading. This is not betaed so sorry for any typos but I do this on the side as time permits.

Silence reigned over breakfast the morning after the Viscount’s visit. Except for the clank as Lady Tyler forcefully set down her tea cup; or the rustle of paper as Lord Tyler read the newspaper. Rose ignored her mother’s icy glares. Clearly, the topic of the Viscount remained controversial.

Rose had tossed and turned all night after Jonathon’s visit. How did she reconcile the identity of her dear bookseller, Mr. Smith, with his alter ego, the Viscount of Gallifrey? Who was the real Jonathon? 

Mr. Mason, the butler, arrived and coughed discretely as he held a silver platter with a folded parchment paper.

“Yes, James,” Lord Tyler said in a distracted voice, still reading his paper.

“Correspondence for Miss Tyler, Sir.”

“From who?” Lady Tyler demanded in a clipped voice.

Rose watched as red creeped up James’ neck. Her heart raced. Certainly Mr. Smith would not risk sending public correspondence to her.

“Lord Harkness,” James intoned in a neutral voice, eyes straight forward not acknowledging anything or anyone.

“Finally, an explanation and apology,” Lady Tyler stated as she buttered toast. 

Lord Tyler sighed heavily and accepted the note. He arched his brow at Rose.

Rose’s stomach knotted and she swore the room tilted. What could Lord Harkness possibly say to account for his behavior? And how could her mother be so willing to forgive his transgressions. Rose poked at her eggs. She knew how. Her mother had not been keen on her Viscount suitor. Rose was even less keen on whatever excuses Lord Harkness might offer in his correspondence.

“Perhaps you should read it, Father.” He nodded and dismissed James.

“Yes, it would do us all some good,” Lady Tyler announced in a sharp tone. “to hear what I’m sure is a valid explanation so we can set aside all these ugly accusations and move on with a proper engagement.” Rose’s temples throbbed at her mother’s stubborn refusal to accept their socially awkward predicament.

“Miss Tyler,” Lord Tyler paused, his face reddening. He looked at Rose. “Rose, I don’t have to--”

“Of course you do!” Lady Tyler insisted. He cleared his throat and continued.

“I apologize for my absence these past few days but I’m sure by now you are aware my life has taken an unexpected turn. Please know I hold you in highest regard and intend no ill will toward you or your family. But perhaps, as much as we have in common, we are not so well matched as our families’ desire.”

“No,” Lady Tyler gasped and fanned herself. “Oh it’s worse than we thought.” Rose sat primly in her chair, a heavy weight pressed inward on her chest as she listened to her father continue.

“As I’m sure you are aware, my reputation is not as pure as yours. I am not like my father who sets his needs above all others. And I fear in my pursuit of a life of my own choosing, one that an intelligent and refined lady such as yourself would not enjoy, I have unintentionally caused you and your family distress. 

“You have always spoken to me directly and with honesty and kindness. More than I deserve. In that regard, I cannot in clear conscious, avoid the truth and risk your reputation or the courtesy extended by your family. The truth is I met a lady with desires and goals similar to my own. I have not hidden my affections for her nor hers for me. 

“It is on this point I must again extend my most sincere apologies for any harm befalling you from my actions. By the time you receive this correspondence, my lady and I shall be on our way to Paris and a new life together. I wish you and your family the best and that you may find a suitor worthy of your beauty and refined intellect.”

“I feel ill.” Lady Jackie vigorously fanned herself. The resounding slap of paper echoed in the dining room as Lord Tyler slammed the correspondence on the table.

“I will handle this,” he said in a tight voice. “I need you and your mother to stay in the house, receive no callers until I have time to properly express my outrage and set things in motion for our future.”

“Father, I’m so sorry,” Rose said with a hitched breath. “Is there nothing I can do to help?”

“Help him!” Lady Jackie exclaimed. “It’s too late for that! By now everyone knows Lord Harkness tossed you aside and left with that…that…strumpet!”

“Jacqueline!” Lord Tyler admonished standing with a thunderous look in his eyes before inhaling deeply. “Perhaps it would be best if you adjourned to our quarters and rest.” Rose couldn’t blame her mother. She only stated the truth.

“Rest won’t solve this,” Lady Tyler choked out, tears wetting her cheeks. “The scandal will ruin us and no one will marry Rose.”

“Except the Viscount,” Rose reminded in a soft voice.

“Oh don’t even start with that, young lady!” Jackie straightened, anger glittering in her blue eyes. “I don’t care what titles that merchant says he has. Even considering marriage to him will only confirm Lord Harkness’ righteousness in his rejection of you.” Sobs wracked her body.

Rose rubbed at her temples. What could she say to convince her mother there was no option. Despite Mr. Smith’s deception or misleading occupation, he possessed a title and agreed to help. Only a competing suitor could soften the blow to her reputation and prove she was innocent.

“The Viscount is a noble man from an old but well regarded family,” Lord Tyler stated in a deep and calm voice. “He formally asked me for the privilege of our daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“And what did you say?” Lady Tyler’s voice waned and she wilted in her chair, shoulders collapsed inward. Lord Tyler smiled softly at Rose who swallowed hard at how the Viscount, Mr. Smith asked to marry her. Her head spun. This was everything she desired and yet doubt tainted the moment.

“As any good father,” Lord Tyler stated. “I made him wait for a formal response.” His gaze pinned on Rose. “We will discuss our answer this evening.” He called for the butler.

“James, we are not accepting callers. No servants are to indulge in gossip or small talk upon punishment of dismissal.”

“Yes, my lord,” James agreed. 

“Lady Tyler is unwell. Please assist her to our quarters.” Lady Tyler arose with a sniff at her husband and walked from the room. The butler followed stiffly behind her.

“Do you trust me?” Lord Tyler asked Rose who stared miserably at her tea. 

Rose fought for a smile and nodded once. “Yes, father.”

“Do not allow Lord Harkness one more minute of your concern. I will protect your future and honor vigilantly and with the zeal of a father who loves his darling daughter.”

Tears pricked at Rose’s eyes. She did trust her father. He had never disappointed her and always acted in the best interest of their family. Rose prayed his efforts were sufficient this time. London society tended to treat such salacious gossip and scandal with swift and vicious tendencies. And Lord Harkness and the entire Tyler family would be its targets.

#

The day passed excruciating slow. Rose avoided her mother as much as possible. She wandered the gardens and house flinching when correspondence was delivered or visitors called. Mr. Mason, ever the loyal and vigilante butler, kept the house secure. Even the staff performed their duties with a quiet similar to mourning. As she sat in the library staring at the book of poetry Mr. Smith had given her, Mr. Mason entered. 

“Miss Tyler, I beg your pardon but Miss Pond is here. I have tried to dissuade her but she’s quite--” He paused and cleared his throat. “--vehemently demanding it is a matter of great urgency she sees you.” Rose smiled softly at the thought of her dear Amelia racing to her aid.

“I know father left strict instructions, Mr. Mason, but Miss Pond is family and aware of our indelicate situation. Please escort her into the parlor.” He bowed and left. Rose heard a few of Amelia’s indignant remarks echoing down the hall. She set the book aside, stood and straightened a few pleats on her brown muslin gown. It was odd how suddenly lighter she felt and more clear headed knowing she had her cousin’s support. Especially, in face of her mother’s less than enthusiastic acceptance of Mr. Smith as a suitor.

“Amelia.” Rose barely made it a few steps before Amelia swept her arms around her in a display of affection exceeding polite concern. “Amelia, has something happened?” she asked as Amelia released her.

“Happened?” Amelia exclaimed. “Lord Harkness runs off with that despicable woman shaming not just his family but tarnishing your good name and you ask me what’s happened?”

Rose guided Amelia to the sofa, spending a moment to arrange her skirts before replying.

“Yes, I know all too well about Lord Harkness’ actions. He sent correspondence to me early this morning.”

“That scoundrel dared try and explain his way out of such reprehensible conduct?” Amelia huffed, her face flush as sat back against the sofa. “A cad such as him cannot correspond his way back into anyone’s good graces.”

“He did not make excuses,” Rose assured, hands clasped primly in her lap. Mr. Mason delivered tea and biscuits before retreating and shutting the door behind him.

“He admitted his fault and ill conduct whilst apologizing for any harm caused to me and my family.” Rose poured tea for each of them, the words sounding insulting even in her own resigned state.

“Apologizing! I should hope so, not that it solves his flagrant and most outrageous behavior! Everyone is talking about it.”

“And what are they saying about me and my family?” Rose didn’t really want to know but was compelled to hear the truth. Amelia stared at her tea for a moment before sighing heavily. She set aside her tea and clasped Rose’s hand in hers.

“Dear Cousin, you must brace yourself and be brave. For although you have committed no wrong, you are still slighted by this rake’s despicable conduct.” Amelia paused and bit her lip before continuing. “Everyone is shocked at Lord Harkness blatant disregard for propriety and disrespect of his father’s wishes. He left London with no small amount of flourish in the company of Lady Poisson. He had a public and most disrespectful argument with his father before leaving.” 

Rose’s throat tightened in anxiety. It was one thing for him to set her aside and abscond with another woman. Publically stating his intent and disrespecting his father would cause even more scandal to fall around them. 

“Rose, your name has been raised. Petty and vindictive people suggest he was driven to such actions by your coldness toward him, forcing him to the brink of sanity.”

“What?” Rose launched herself from the sofa. Her heart slammed in her chest and her cheeks heated in outrage. “How could they think such a vile thing? I lavished nothing but kindly, virtuous affection on Lord Harkness!” She paced back and forth her skirts whipping around her legs. “Should I have offered myself up in an unladylike manner?”

“No! Of course not!” Amelia joined her, stilling her pacing and cupping her cheek with tenderness. “You have done nothing wrong and I have an army of ladies ready to defend your actions! The outrage that your pristine reputation be besmirched by the actions of a man whose past actions speak of one with a hedonistic tendency shall not be tolerated.”

Amelia led her back to the sofa and pressed tea into her hands. “You must not acknowledge any such evil suggestions.”

“My poor father.” Rose collapsed inward, setting her tea aside. “He said he would handle this but I don’t think any of us conceived the cruelty and viciousness which would befall us at the hands of society.”

“Your father has stated his outrage and made clear your innocence. He refuted that you were cast aside and, in fact, were the party to distance yourself from Lord Harkness. He identified a competing suitor for your hand as the Viscount of Gallifrey.” A weak smile curved Rose’s pale lips.

“Yes, he was here last night stating his intentions to Father.”

“Good!” Amelia stated with emphasis. “And this Viscount is worthy? He’s not a pretender or God forbid another suitor with questionable honor.” Rose’s stomach knotted. How did she tell Amelia of her concerns even when a bright spot of happiness conflicted within her?

“He is--” Rose paused and straightened, the words caught in her throat. “--a noble gentlemen from an old family who chooses a quiet life.”

“And?” Amelia prompted. Rose suddenly found herself fascinated with a button on her bodice. But Amelia would not be satisfied until she had the truth.

“Rose, no one of good reputation seems to know who he is other than some references to a tragedy and an estate fire. Who is this gentlemen and what aren’t you saying?”

“Oh Amelia.” She sighed and collapsed back against the sofa. “It’s Mr. Smith.”

“It is not!” Amelia denied, her jaw gaping. “Rose, it cannot be. He’s a merchant, a bookseller, a man of humble means and certainly not--” Her voice trailed off as she met Rose’s gaze.

“It is Amelia. He arrived attired as a finely as any gentlemen of worth. Mother was displeased but father accepted his company and seems familiar with his family’s history and reputation.”

“The bookseller is a nobleman?” Amelia reached for a biscuit and stared blankly forward. “Rory will never believe this.”

“Perhaps he already does,” Rose suggested. “I mean by name. Surely, everyone shall make inquiry as to the Viscount if nothing else than to satisfy their curiosity and embellish this whole sad tale of a courtship gone asunder.” She tucked her knees close to her and curled up on the sofa like she had when she was a child. “The truth is although Father received him, Father did not agree to the match without further contemplation and discussion with me.”

“Good for him!” Amelia intoned strongly, around a mouthful of biscuit. 

“We are to discuss the matter and answer the Viscount this evening.”

“And what will the answer be?” Amelia asked. “Not that we don’t already both know the answer.”

Rose sighed and glanced out the window, sun filtering through the tall shrubbery warming her cheeks. She knew the answer as did her father. It was a matter of details, negotiations and presentation in a manner society would deem acceptable. And then there was her father’s business association with the Earl of Torchwood; and her mother’s prejudice. Even more perilous, was the tenuous state of her heart.

#

Jonathon’s knee throbbed as he hobbled back and forth in the back room at his shop. The old injury paralleled his mood. Lord Williams stood stiffly off to the side, watching him. Bloody hell. How did his life spin out of control? He was happy selling his books, building his business and helping people here and there. And then Miss Rose Tyler walked into his life.

Now, he, the confirmed bachelor, found himself entangled in society gossip, the affairs of a courtship gone wrong and dangling perilously on the edge of matrimony. And instead of running away like a sane man, he suffered and paced whilst Lord Williams observed.

“Mr. Smith, I mean Viscount,” Lord Williams stuttered. “How is it you want to be…what is the proper address you prefer?”

“Oh for the love of God!” Jonathon groused, collapsing into one of the wooden chairs and rubbing his knee. “I am Jonathon Smith. That’s the man I chose to be long ago. The Viscount is…the past.”

“Yes.” Lord Williams nodded. “And yet both are the same man. One no more important than the other.” Jonathon snorted.

“Trust me, my Lord, being the man you choose to be is more important than a title. As Lord Harkness appears to have learned.” Lord Williams swallowed hard and seated himself opposite Jonathon.

“On that point we can agree.”

“Finally see it, do you?” Jonathon asked, his tone softening as he watched the young man lose the stiff propriety he carried himself with in public. He always thought the lad worth much more than the course his family set for him. 

“Mr. Smith, you may see me as young, naive and easily led by family obligation, but the moment I met Amelia, I learned a great many things about myself. Such as wanting something so badly, I would be willing to suffer for it.” He paused smiling softly before directing a very pinning look at Jonathon. “And by seeing her, how she stands up for herself and others, fighting so bravely for her beliefs and morals, I realized the man I could be if I did the same.”

Jonathon stilled, his heart slamming in his chest. Oh but to be taught a lesson by one so young. He did not miss the message. An odd warmth bloomed in his chest as he reached the epiphany that Lord Williams was wise beyond his years. His throat worked as he tried to deny it but the truth sat before him as surely as the young man staring at him. Miss Rose Tyler changed him.

The old soldier, the broken and jaded man within denied it. Admitting he wanted to be something more went against everything he vowed when he left the tattered remains of his old life behind. The shallowness, vanity of the aristocracy had destroyed his family. He wanted no part of it. It was better to focus on others, remain at a distance, and dispel any personal desires. And yet, Rose Tyler made him think about sharing his life and building something new.

“Mr. Smith,” Lord Williams’ voice interrupted his thoughts. “We must address the matter at hand.”

“And what matter is that?” he snapped, his foul mood reasserting itself.

“Miss Tyler and her family need your public support.”

“I agreed to no such thing!” His head pounded at the thought of entering society in some vacuous and pompous facsimile of the aristocracy.

“You agreed to marry her,” Lord Williams reminded him.

“I…I agreed to provide a competing suitor to remedy her unhappy circumstances. And I did that. Her father sent me off without so much as an answer!” He slapped his hands on his thighs in aggravation. A contentious part of him howled that he was free. He’d fulfilled his obligation. Yet deep down, hurt cut through him at the thought of rejection. 

“As I hear it, he wanted to speak to his daughter before entering any negotiations or contract for her marriage. Lord Tyler loves and respects his daughter; and unlike most modern men, takes her desires into account before committing to an engagement.”

Jonathon could not argue Lord William’s logical point. Satisfaction eased his knotted shoulders at how Lord Tyler treated his daughter, acknowledging her intelligence and ability to discuss her future. The lady possessed a practicality he admired and-- He swallowed hard. There it was again. Warmth and a slight tingle of pride eased his contentious mood. 

“You and I know her answer will be yes.” Jonathon eyed him, drumming his fingers on this thigh.

“And how do we know this?” Jonathon asked even though he knew the answer. Lord Williams crossed his arms and met Jonathon’s stare.

“Mr. Smith, although I admit, my fiancée and I escort Miss Tyler to your shop for more than a good book. We may seem unobservant walking the stacks and conversing as affianced persons may do in the miasma of our affection. We in fact, are not blind to the growing affinity between you and Miss Tyler or how her face radiates her esteem for you and yours for her.”

Jonathon bit back his automatic denial. Oh he wanted to argue but he knew it was pointless. Others had also noted the growing friendship between him and Miss Tyler. And just that day Lord Tyler had effectively broadcast how Jonathon had made his suit for Rose. 

“I see,” Jonathon responded after a lengthy pause. “Since you proclaim to be so observant and possess the keen intellect of a scientist and one whose interest is focused on the human condition, what do you predict as the next course of action?”

Lord Williams sat up straighter. “I predict Lord Tyler will invite you to further discuss your proposal and set forth his terms.”

“And what of the ultimate fall of Lord Harkness and his father, the Earl? Not to mention my own background is hardly that of a typical member of society and then there’s the fact Miss Tyler looked at me as if I was a stranger last night.” He swallowed hard on that point. He did not miss the glint of confusion in her eyes. 

“Would these things not cause Lord Tyler pause or worry they might interfere in his own interests?” Jonathon didn’t think they would but he was curious to hear Lord Williams’ opinions.

“I think Lord Harkness aired unpleasant facts and allegations about his father’s reputation. The truth about the Earl, his own indiscretions and possibly immoral activities will come to light.” Lord Williams paused thoughtfully. “Although Lord Harkness’ conduct remains tarnished, as time and judgment passes, he will appear less besmirched than his father. I have faith in Lord Tyler’s ability to promote his family’s interests and recover from any aspersions cast against his business.”

“And me?” Jonathon asked, leaning forward. “You know nothing of my past. For all any of you know, I’m a murderer or person of questionable honor?” Jonathon’s voice caught as he spoke. Old wounds throbbed deep in his soul as he visualized his family home burned and the screams of his family cut through his mind.

“I know enough of the man you are now” Lord Williams’ voice remained strong and sure. “Miss Tyler does not proclaim to need the fineries some ladies desire. She admired you before you revealed your title. Not to mention, she has an affinity for your store.” His cheeks tinged with pink and he shifted uncomfortably. “I mean that I have seen,” he stuttered out.

Jonathon released his breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. Maybe this whole engagement plan wasn’t a disaster and wouldn’t destroy lives as he envisioned. In fact, he felt a flutter in his chest as he contemplated him and Rose running the store together. Or was that a fantasy? He saw doubt in her eyes the prior night but she had waited for him to leave her father and wished him good night. Perhaps doubt was tempered by her compassion or curiosity? Hope flushed through him that she saw past the Viscount to him, Jonathon. Hope had been his guiding force the past few years. He rather liked hope.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble with this one so apologies if the beginning is a little rough. It gets better ;)

The rustle of skirts and a quiet murmur of voices filled Smith’s Book Shop. Gentlemen and ladies mixed with students and a few laborers seeking to better themselves through Jonathon’s collection. Normally, Jonathon enjoyed the energy of his customers. But the majority of the customers patronizing his shop this day consisted less of the literary inclined and more of those whose interest swung toward rabid curiosity about the shop’s owner. 

At first he circulated, helping some of his less affluent and slightly more skittish customers find material appealing to their interests. He didn’t miss a few whispered comments.

“Are you sure that’s him? He hardly looks like a titled gentlemen.”

“I hear he lost his family in a fire that nearly claimed his life as well. And he was in his cups when it happened.”

His neck flushed with anger at the continual spew of gossip and vaguely insinuated insults often ending with nasty speculation about his new fiancée. He clenched his hands calling on every bit of self-control learned over the years to prevent him from tossing them out on their finely attired arses. The control snapped when one particularly vile lady, and he used that term loosely, spoke without reserve in a most unkind manner.

“It was probably the best she could do after the shameless way she thrust herself on Lord Harkness. This is what happens when a girl raised outside society attempts to marry one who is clearly more sophisticated and in need of a more--”

“My lord and lady,” Jonathon interrupted in a biting tone. “May I assist you?” 

He met the bored gaze of an older gentlemen with highly polished boots and hands that looked soft and unaccustomed to doing anything other than count money. The man’s younger companion wore her wealth for all to see with a jeweled broach affixed to a yellow damask gown. Her cold blue eyes fixed on Jonathon like a raptor about to devour its prey.

The old soldier within prepared for battle even if only against snobbery.

“That won’t be necessary,” the man drawled. “I think we’ve seen all we need.” The man addressed Jonathon with a sniff. 

“My husband and I were merely curious about your quaint little shop.” the blonde lady spoke in a cold, calculated way. 

Jonathon’s jaw clenched and he felt the curious gazes of others watching. They waited for him to provide more gossip, evidence to be used to indict not just him but the entire Tyler family and make the arrogant elite feel superior. Jonathon would be damned before that happened. 

The front door bell jangled and several people gasped, interrupting his intended retort. Jonathon looked up only for all of his anger to vanish at the vision that was his Miss Tyler. In her prim black striped grey gown, she swept into the shop accompanied by her ever present companions, Lord Williams and Lady Pond. 

All the air left his lungs as he grasped for what to say. A confidence lighted her face as she met his gaze before shifting to his arrogant customers. 

The difference two days and an engagement made astonished him. It shouldn’t. Her maturity and common sense shined through during their many discussions. But as she marched forward, chin held high, a giddy anticipation filled him. 

“Mr. Smith.” Rose curtsied to him. “Lord and Lady Morefield. What a pleasant coincidence.” She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Jonathon bit his tongue and waited to see how his lovely Miss Tyler conducted herself in the face of such glaring prejudice and snobbery.

“I’m sure,” Lord Morefield announced in his stilted manner, bowing slight. “And we were just leaving.”

“Such a pity,” Miss Tyler stated in a manner as cold as he’d ever heard her. His shoulders straightened and he stood up tall and proud watching her. 

“Although, my dear Miss Tyler,” Lady Morefield spoke with derision. “I find it concerning and possibly damaging to your reputation to find you wandering about London unescorted. Lady Morefield fixed her cold gaze on Rose. “A lady who only just escaped scandal must be careful. After your unfortunate association with Lord Harkness and your rushed engagement, I would think--” 

“She is not unescorted,” Lady Pond announced in her most acerbic tone, her arm resting possessively on Lord William’s arm. Jonathon couldn’t contain a gleeful smile and watched the drama unfold before him, ever ready to defend his lovely fiancée should the need arise. But somehow, any concern vanished at how she stood up to the horrible couple. 

Lady Pond stepped forward, ready for battle. 

“My fiancé, Lord Williams, offered to escort us on a walk to enjoy the lovely spring day.” Lord Williams straightened under Lady Pond’s adoring gaze. A haughty expression replaced her adoration as she once again faced Lady Morefield. 

“My fiancé attends London University and required a book from Mr. Smith’s shop. I saw no reason why my dear cousin should not accompany us to such an esteemed establishment and especially given it is one of her fiancé’s business ventures.”

Rose stepped toward Jonathon and held out her hand which Jonathon accepted and bowed to brush the lightest kiss across her knuckles. The haughty couple gasped in outrage. Jonathon could not contain the smile bursting forth as his eyes lit on Miss Tyler, who’s cheeks reddened in the most delightful blush as she withdrew her hand.

“I am so proud of my dear Jonathon and his success with the shop,” Rose declared, demurely clasping her gloved hands in front of her. “I think his courage and dedication to provide literature to people of every class is admirable.”

“Thank you, Miss Tyler.” Jonathon’s voice deepened and he eyed the lord and lady who appeared flustered.

“Yes, I’m sure we all congratulate you, Mr. Smith. And as I was saying, my wife and I should be on our way. We shall leave you to your…” Lord Morefield frowned. “Personal business.” They fled with heads held high.

Amelia stepped next to Rose and squeezed her arm. “Don’t listen to that jealous cow. She wishes she had half your grace and dignity.”

Jonathon breathed out his relief as the couple exited and turned his attention to Miss Tyler who deflated and gripped Amelia for support. He swallowed hard at the slight tremble of her hand. She presented a strong front but uncertainty still reigned over her. 

His stomach twisted at the thought. Yes, her father reached an agreement with him but he had yet to speak to his new fiancée in private. Not that speaking to her in private would meet the stringent conduct required by society. But after the past few days of strangers staring and whispering; his solicitor delivering papers evidencing his title as part of the engagement; and dealing with the very public result of Lord Harkness exit, he didn’t give a whit about society rules or propriety.

“I’m sorry,” the words burst forth without thought. He was, of course, for so many things. 

“For what exactly?” Lady Pond demanded.

“Things best spoken to my fiancée in private.”

“I do not think ” Amelia sputtered before Lord Williams interrupted her handing Rose the book of poetry Jonathon had lent her.

“Amelia.” Lady Pond narrowed her eyes at Lord Williams who did not flinch. Jonathon’s admiration for the young lord continued. Most men would have recoiled under such a vicious glare.

“I think perhaps Miss Tyler could use a rest whilst we collect my latest order and who better to oversee her recovery than her fiancé?” Amelia frowned but one glance at Rose fidgeting and biting her lip remedied Lady Pond’s annoyance.

“Very well” Lady Pond cast a stern look at Jonathon. “If she needs anything or anyone mistreats her, she need only call. I will be listening and ready to come to her aid.” Jonathon eyed Lord Williams who fought back a slight smile with a discrete cough.

“I give you my word of honor, I shall treat her as the fine, respectable lady she is,” Jonathon promised, before leading Rose into the back room. He pulled a chair out for her while she set her book on the table and Jonathon focused on making her a cup of tea.

“Mr. Smith, I ” Her mouth opened and closed before she stared at her lap.

Jonathon set a tea cup down before her. “Milk, no sugar as I recall.”

“Yes.” Her voice had a soft breathy quality that struck him to his core. He clasped his hands behind his back and paced two steps.

“Miss Tyler.”

“Yes, Mr. Smith.”

“Please call me Jonathon.” The words tumbled out. It wasn’t what he meant to say but formality in their awkward circumstance seemed inappropriate and not conducive to the conversation he had in mind.

“Jonathon.” She nodded her head with a warm smile. “Thank you for the tea. I…apologize for my earlier behavior with the Morefields. I’m afraid being house bound with my mother these past few days combined with our new relationship has left me out of sorts.”

He snorted and chuckled. “Miss Tyler, Rose, I may call you Rose?”

“Please do.” She nodded earnestly, her gloved fingers wrapped delicate around the tea cup.

“Rose, I would have paid several pounds to watch you stand up to those narrow minded--”

“Jonathon.” His tirade cut short by just the sweet way she spoke his name. Oh he was doomed. He pulled up a chair and she set her tea cup down, smiling at him.

“They were awful, weren’t they?” She smiled brightly before looking down demurely. “But they represent a portion of society we have to deal with. Maybe not the best…but for your and my family’s continued good fortune, we need to ignore them and hold our heads high. Or so my father says.”

“You did that brilliantly,” Jonathon asserted. “Better than I would have. Making nice with the refined set isn’t quite a skill I acquired.”

“No,” she acknowledged and his chest ached in response at disappointing her. But she still smiled at him.

“You’re better than that. You, my dear fiancé are honest which leads to our next topic.” Jonathon swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Rose, whatever you want, I’ll do my best to give you. Not keen on romance or this marriage business, me.” He met her gaze. “But I meant it when I said I esteem and honor you. You’re not one of those silly society types. I see you as a woman of substance and intellect.” Rose’s cheeks reddened and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Jonathon, you are too kind and…well, thank you for the compliment. I respect you as well. Which is why I need to know who I am marrying. Are you my dear Jonathon Smith, the man who has captivated me with his knowledge, enthusiasm for not just books but all life around him; from the university students, to the most humble of his customers. Or, are you the uncomfortable gentlemen who appeared at my home dressed in fine clothing and who would barely look at me? 

“I am engaged and will marry you no matter the man. My family has made that promise and I honor it as well as the man who came to my rescue under circumstances which have only complicated his life. I must know who you are and what are your expectations of me as your wife?”

All of Jonathon’s breath escaped. The walls closed in and he half hoped the ground would swallow him whole. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to assure her. It was only that words failed him. How did he even begin to explain his life to her?

#

Rose sat primly watching Jonathon, scrub at his face and look anywhere but at her. She didn’t think her question that complicated. 

“I know you lost your family.” She reached over and squeezed his arm. He stilled at her touch. “I’m sorry. All of this has stirred up difficult memories, hasn’t it?”

His throat worked and he nodded his head. “It has but you’re right. You need to know who you’re marrying.”

Rose sat back and waited. Jonathon had saved her and her family from scandal. She still believed him to be an honorable man and she’d meant what she said to the Morefields. Rose was proud of all he’d accomplished with the book store.

“I’m afraid Miss Tyler…Rose, you are engaged to a man with a questionable past. I’m not the good man you think me. Nor am I as noble or virtuous as you.”

“I know the man I see in front of me,” Rose declared, shoulders straight and meeting his gaze straight on. “We all have pasts, things we regret and done, things we shouldn’t have done.”

“Not like this.” He stood and limped as he paced, reaching down to rub at his right knee. Rose bit her lip and stayed seated even though she wanted to go to him. Jonathon Smith was a proud man. And this was his story to tell. As difficult as it was, she needed to be patient and give him the time he needed.

“You’ve heard about my family, the fire that killed them, yes?” He asked and leaned against a wall.

“Yes, father explained there was an accident at your family home. Something about gas lighting and an explosion.”

“Yes.” Jonathon’s voice thickened and Rose watched as shadows swept across his face like he was reliving the tragedy.

“I…I encouraged him to update the lighting, to modernize the old family home.” He shook his head and thumped it back against the wall. “I was so clever, wanting to bring the old estate to modern times.”

“Many homes now use gas lighting,” Rose gently reminded him. He snorted.

“Our home was over a century old, drafty and in need of repairs. Father loved history and preserving our heritage. Some of the old tapestries still hung on the walls and the original ovens from when it was built were still used. The cooks were always complaining.” Rose’s emotions welled at the bitter but still nostalgic tone in his voice.

“But I knew everything. I insisted and he did it to please me. He knew I wanted to travel and see places. He wanted me to stay home and be the heir, the respected gentlemen, the next Viscount of Gallifrey.” Jonathon shoved off the wall limping and gesturing his hands in front of him.

“I hated the thought of duty, honor and old stodgy ways. Too young and full of myself, I was.” He turned to Rose, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I should have been the son he needed. He changed the house for me. And I repaid him by riding out every day, racing across the fields and farms, visiting taverns, living a wild life with friends and exploring every nook and cranny of our county.”

“Jonathon, you were young,” Rose tried to reason with him. “I wasn’t a proper English girl growing up and did the same. I hate to think how many times I wandered the streets and markets of Mumbai and not always with escorts. I hated my lessons; and am not the lady my mum wants me to be.”

“No.” His voice deepened with emphasis. “I was rebelling and finding trouble. My father had to buy my way out of more than one scuffle with landowners or the some conceited aristocrat like the Morefields.” He slapped his palm on the back of the wooden chair.

His face lined with pain as he squeezed his eyes shut against the memories. Rose stood, unable to stay seated one moment longer. This man who bore so much guilt and pain was her fiancé. Maybe he fought against his own identity as he fought the memories. And perhaps she didn’t know who he was or how he’d become the man before her. All she did know was her feelings remained firm. 

She laid her hand on his arm and he flinched away. Hurt cut across her chest. Rose realized this was what Jonathon did to survive. He withdrew and hardened himself. And yet he let her in if only the tiniest bit.

“Don’t,” he spit out. “I deserve to suffer. The fire started while I was off on one of my adventures, off exploring an old myth about ghosts inhabiting a ruined monastery. As soon as I saw the glow on the horizon, I knew something was wrong and raced home. Too late.” His voice choked and leaned against the wall trembling.

“The fire consumed the house. The servants and others who came to help dragged me out of the burning wreckage. I was screaming and mad with grief. My parents, my brother and sister…all gone. I should have been there, Rose. I should have saved them.” He gulped down heaving breaths. 

“Instead, I ran. Didn’t honor anything of my heritage or my family. Turned my back on everything like the coward I am; joined the military and left.”

“You were traumatized,” Rose reasoned. “Anyone would have been. If my parents died like that, I wouldn’t want to stay.” A knot formed in her stomach at the thought. No, she would have been like Jonathon, fleeing and looking for anything to dispel the horrible memories.

“You wouldn’t have done what I did.” He looked at her, his blue eyes icy and chilling her to her core. “I did worse; terrible things, things that to this day I can’t say.” He looked away and collected himself, clearing his throat before he turned back to her. 

“I’m sorry. That’s the man you’re marrying. I may be titled and worked hard to build a new life and make some attempt at redemption but I’m not respectable. You deserve better.” He straightened his jacket still not looking at her.

“Perhaps if we wait long enough, society will forget about Harkness and pity you enough to give you a new chance at a better husband than I would make. I won’t bind you to me. All you have to do is ask and I’ll let you go.”

Rose’s heart slammed in her chest and tears wet her eyes. She impulsively stormed over and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight. He stiffened before gently holding her. She looked up at him, tears wetting her cheeks.

“You may be brilliant and broken, Jonathon Smith, but you are still my fiancé. I agreed to marry you for more reasons than family honor or a scandalous lord.”

“What?” he asked, his eyes wide as his hands gripped her shoulders, his fingers digging through her gown until warmth flushed through to her toes.

“You are the one I wanted to marry. The day you said you had someone to marry me, I was grateful but disappointed as well. Seeing you walk into the house, I dare not believe it. Yes, I was confused and slightly annoyed at how you could be these two persons.”

She rested her hands on his chest, enjoying the his chest heaved and the imagined thump of his heart penetrating the layers between them. And she wondered how bold she could be? Happiness burst forth at the look of wonder on his face as his lips parted in his disbelief.

“I think I understand a little better now,” Rose admitted. “My heart aches for the heavy burden you bare. But it also beats fiercely for the admiration of how hard you’ve worked to make amends for mistakes or misdeeds of your past. I do not want a perfect gentlemen as a husband and partner. I desire a real man, one of intellect, who sees the troubles and wrongs of this world and desires to better it. A man I can respect and love.”

“Rose, you don’t mean that.” His voice remained just above a whisper.

“I do.” She stepped back. “But if you truly do not want to marry me--” She swallowed back pain itching at her throat. “Then I will not object and relegate myself back to my father’s care and scrutiny of society.”

“No.” He shook his head fiercely. “If you would risk your heart and good name for me, I could never turn you away. I ” The words seemed to catch in his throat. “I only want you to be happy. You make me…oh Rose, you fill my shop with hope and joy I never thought possible. I could not conceive of ever feeling this way and although I do not deserve it, I want it with you.”

“Rose?” Amelia burst past the curtain, eyeing Rose and Jonathon. “Is everything all right?” Rory followed her appearing apologetic.

“Everything is fine.” Rose dabbed at her eyes. “Jonathon and I have talked.”

“Talked? About what?” Amelia demanded, arms crossed and narrowing her eyes at Jonathon.

“About our engagement and future, of course.” Rose faced Amelia stepped forward holding her hands out until Amelia grasped them. “I’m sure you and Rory have such discussions and you understand how important they are.”

Amelia blushed fiercely. “Yes, well of course we do! There are many plans to be made.” She eyed Jonathon with speculation. “And you, Mr. Smith, do you have anything to add? Nothing you’d like to confess?”

Jonathon rolled his eyes. “Not with you, Lady Pond.” He answered with a slight twinkle in his eyes before facing Rory. “Lord Williams, is there anything else I can help you with today?”

A slight giggle bubbled up in Rose’s chest. After such an emotional and tense conversation, the fact that both she and Jonathon could set aside their personal affairs and deal with friends and customers, proved to her they were meant to be married.

A warm glow flushed her skin and she barely heard Amelia announce it was time to leave. They left the back room and paused at the front desk where Jonathon held out another book to her.

“Can’t have my fiancée leave without suitable reading material.”

Rose clutched the book to her heart and smiled softly, again her cheeks heating. “Thank you Mr. Smith.”

“My pleasure, Miss Tyler.”

Rose swore there was a certain pause as he said her name, his voice resonating with a touch more emotion than she’d ever heard from him. She stumbled leaving the shop, barely able to walk straight as a happy hum overwhelmed her. She was going to marry Jonathon Smith. Nothing else mattered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter and an epilogue :) Thank you everyone for reading, kudoing and commenting :)

After disclosing such intensely personal and gutting details of his life to Rose, Jonathon proceeded with his day, shaken but also somehow less burdened. Not even the curious eyes of those who rarely set foot near books bothered him. He ignored or dismissed them as they whispered and stuck their noses up at his legitimate customers.

Jonathon took great pleasure driving home their ignorance as he discussed great literature with working class people whose passion burned for great stories. His customer’s enthusiasm reminded him of the same fire for knowledge that burned in Rose. His heart beat double time as he thought of how she refused to be intimidated by those with morals far below hers; and how she stood up to even him in his darkest moment.

He hadn’t lied. He was not worthy of her faith and devotion. Even that night as he shut down his shop, he could not imagine what she saw in a broken down book seller. He glanced at the book of poetry she returned and paged through it. A slip of ivory stationery sat innocently next to A Woman’s Last Word.

His heart stuttered at one line in particular: _What so false as truth is, False to thee?_ He swallowed back guilt at all the secrets he still buried away deep within his soul. He placated his conscious with a reminder this was still a marriage of convenience. Declarations of love were often made in the heat of the moment. Or, in this case, in compassion and mutual defense against those who tried to accuse them of an immorality reflected in their accusers’ own petty souls.

Vicious and obstinate, his heart and head seemed to rebel against the logic he used to protect himself. The way Rose had said his name, breathy and warm. It couldn’t be the truth. Nor could that fierce emotion in the depths of eyes that bore deep into his chest until he was sure, every bit of darkness leaked out.

He turned to her letter, hands shaking. 

_My Dear Mr. Smith,_

_By the time you read this correspondence, I hope we have reached a mutual understanding about our engagement. If not, or if I am unable to convey to you my promise and desire to be you wife, please accept this letter as my declaration of devotion._

_I know you have suffered in the past from things I may not understand. But I wish to understand and alleviate your burdens as your wife and partner. I desire to know you, my dear fiancé, so that we may enjoy companionship and a marriage grounded in honesty and shared aspirations. Perhaps I am young and naive in many things you have lived in your life. My heart and mind are open to understanding and I yearn to accept as much as you are willing to share with me._

_No matter what any may say about you and I, we must stay true to ourselves and our mutual passions and ability to allow our hearts to remain open. My heart shall be yours always, my dear fiancé. I pray that one day, yours may be open to me._

_Your ever faithful, Rose._

The call of a night-man walking the street barely registered with him as he held her letter and gazed across his store. Was this what it was like in grand romance novels? Could he allow himself to enjoy a happy ending to his own life story? 

A clock ticked down the late hour. Jonathon folded the paper and tucked it in his pocket. Maybe, just maybe this would all work out. He suddenly had a yearning to call on his lovely fiancée. This time to pay her the proper court she deserved. She’d shown patience and listened to him unleash his past. Not that he was much about romantic gestures, but he could offer what he did when she visited the shop: conversation and beloved literature.

Yes, this time when he visited her family, he would show Rose he wasn’t the nervous fool who barely managed to ask her father for her hand. He marched up the stairs his mind whirling with plans and then he stumbled. He’d have to face her family. Lord Tyler seemed amiable enough and a man of intellect. But Lady Tyler He swallowed hard. 

But then he thought of Rose and how she’d blush and smile. It would be worth it to face off against her formidable mother. Maybe he wasn’t the lady’s first choice for her daughter. But Rose chose him. He could swallow down his annoyance at the scathing comments of Lady Tyler for a few hours of visiting Rose. Of course he could! He continued up the stairs and glanced at himself in the mirror. Then again, he was no dashing Lord Harkness. He winced and paced his room. 

#

Two days later attired in a new grey suit and black boots, he knocked on the door to the Tyler home. 

“Mr. Jonathon Smith, the Viscount of Gallifrey to visit Miss Tyler,” he announced allowing the butler to take his gloves and walking stick. He was led into a formal sitting room. He set down the books he had brought on a table near windows overlooking the manicured gardens in the front of the house.

“Viscount,” Lady Tyler, attired in what Jonathon assumed to be the latest fashion, a pink fitted gown with a lace décolletage. Her blue eyes pierced him as sure as if she thrust a sabre forward.

“Jonathon.” Rose’s voice warmly countered the icy Lady Tyler. She swept in and reached for his hands. He bowed and brushed his lips over her knuckles and didn’t miss Lady Tyler tutting in the background.

“How kind of you to call on us,” Rose continued and gestured to an ornate, blue velvet cushioned settee. Arranging the folds in her lavender skirts, she sat next to him before looking across to her mother. “Mother, isn’t it lovely of Jonathon to take time out of his busy day to visit?”

“After such a rushed engagement, it’s expected,” she retorted, still pinning Jonathon with a hard stare.

Jonathon cleared his throat. “Unusual it may be, I am honored to be engaged to Rose.” Rose blushed and the quivering uncertainty in his chest eased.

“And you’ve brought us books.” Rose eyed the three books on the table.

“Yes, I understand from Lord Tyler, you lovely ladies are enjoying a respite from society functions. I didn’t want you to get bored.”

“Books, you brought us books?” Lady Tyler, whipped out a fan and proceeded to vigorously fan herself.

“Yes, mother. It was very thoughtful.” Rose’s voice hardened ever so slightly. Jonathon used all his self-control to prevent an amused smile.

“Not exactly, the normal gift,” Lady Tyler quipped.

“Not at all,” Jonathon answered smoothly and picked up a thick blue linen covered book. “The Art of Flowers explores the many species of blossoming plants in English gardens.” He nodded his head at Lady Jackie who stilled. “I thought you and your gardening club might enjoy some of the lithographs. The artwork is fantastic.” 

Rose accepted the book and opened it, tracing her fingers over the renderings. “Jonathon, it’s beautiful! The colors and artwork are brilliant.” She walked over to her mother and knelt showing her the open book. Lady Jackie accepted it and paged through as Rose exclaimed about pictures of plants in their garden. Jonathon breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Viscount,” Lady Tyler said formally and set the book aside watching Rose walk back over and sit next to Jonathon. The next hour slowed to a crawl with stilted conversation about the weather, the Tyler garden and state of the Queen’s health.

“Father, should be home shortly,” Rose inserted. “Perhaps I could show you our home library?”

“I’d love to see your collection,” Jonathon said with a bit too much enthusiasm, springing up from the settee. “Lord Tyler and I have enjoyed several conversations about some of the foreign publications he brought back from India.”

“You spent some time in India as I recall,” Lady Tyler stated and watched Jonathon for a reaction. A muscle in his jaw ticked. He wanted to tell Rose of his time in the army but not in front of her mother.

“Yes, they were not the best of times.”

“And that’s where you saw Lord Harkness and the Earl of Torchwood.” Lady Jacqueline was on a mission. He knew this line of questioning was meant to unnerve him. Touché and points to his future mother-in-law. His stomach clenched at that thought.

#

Rose clenched her hands at her mother’s uncalled for change of topic. Her mother accepted her engagement. The two had talked about her upcoming marriage. She seemed excited even. Why when faced with Jonathon did her mother have to rehash old grievances?

“Perhaps we can talk India when father arrives,” Rose suggested and narrowed her eyes at her mother who returned her look with a fake smile.

“Nonsense. I’m sure your father tires of such talk and I am eager to learn more about my future son-in-law. I understand he made quite the reputation for himself.” Jonathon’s face flushed and his eyes deepened to what Rose called angry ocean blue. A storm was brewing and one that might consume them all.

“With all due respect to you my dear fiancé,” Rose addressed to Jonathon before crossing her arms and facing her mother. “I do not think demanding Jonathon’s personal account of behavior of gentlemen no longer in society’s favor enhances our family or my marriage.”

Jacqueline stood and tipped her chin up. “I shall decide what is important to this family and whether not there even is a marriage.”

“Mother, the announcement is made. Father has made an agreement with Jonathon. We will be married.”

“I am still your mother and announcements can be recanted if I’m not satisfied of this gentlemen’s intent!”

“Perhaps it would be best if I left,” Jonathon stated in a clipped tone.

“Please don’t go,” Rose implored. “I apologize for my mother’s mistreatment of you.”

“Mistreatment,” Lady Jacqueline gasped. “I am only doing what my husband should have done assuring this gentlemen has better intentions than the last man to court my daughter. How do I know you will treat Rose, like the fine lady she is; provide her with a home and fine gowns and all the things she deserve?” Rose’s mouth gaped at her mother’s flushed face and clenched hands.

“I have given my word of honor to Lord Tyler,” Jonathon stated in a low booming voice. “There is no one in London I respect more than Rose. And as to my ability to provide Rose with a lifestyle to which she desires, my lady, I have proven such to your husband.”

“But you live in a shop,” Lady Jacqueline gasped and twisted a piece of lace in her hands.

“How can my Rose live in a hovel and raise a family? You need a proper house with a garden and staff.”

“Mum,” Rose said softly and walked over and grasped her mother’s hands. “All I need at the moment is Jonathon. The rest will follow when we, he and I deem them necessary.”

“They’re necessary now. You don’t understand what will happen like I do. You’ve got all this book knowledge but you don’t know people and society and what’s expected. This inexperience will ruin you if you don’t listen to me.” She turned to Jonathon. “You’re old enough to know better. How can you do this to my daughter if you really honor her like you say?” Tears glistened in her mother’s eyes.

“Oh mum, please don’t worry so about me.” Rose helped her mother sit and knelt by her side comforting her.

“Your mother is right.” Rose gaped at Jonathon who she swore a few minutes ago was staring at the door and calculating his escape. He stood calmly and met her mother’s distraught gaze.

“Lady Tyler, I understand you see only my faults and I cannot deny I am not a man of the most virtue; nor am I a man who curries favor amongst society and in fact, take great pleasure in my independence and forging my own way.”

Rose’s chest tightened waiting for her mother to unleash her disapproval but she stayed silent allowing Jonathon to speak.

“I have learned from the painful loss of my family and a few hard learned mistakes what’s important in life. Family, acting with honor and maintaining one’s self-respect are my priorities.” He gazed down at Rose and his face softened. “I never saw myself married and didn’t think I deserved it. Still don’t” 

He glanced at her mother before again facing Rose. “But then I met your daughter who showed me indescribable character, kindness and strength. I admit, I never thought her for the likes of me but then I realized as she faced social travesty and refused to admit defeat, I could offer up something of value, a heritage I often dismissed or feared to face.

“And she allowed me to be her friend and champion. I’ve never been so honored and--” He swallowed hard. “I never felt so alive or so invigorated to come to her defense and prove to the world the fantastic woman she is. And I will always treat her with the respect and dignity she deserves.”

“And a house, you’ll see my baby is settled and protected.” Her mother’s voice hitched.

“Mother, I don’t need--”

“Of course,” Jonathon interrupted. Rose could barely breathe. Was this happening? Did Jonathon accommodate her demanding mother? 

A cough sounded. “Viscount.” Her father walked into the room.

“Lord Tyler.” A hint of relief laced Jonathon’s voice. Rose wanted to rush over and hug her father for the blessed interruption.

“I confess I heard some of your conversation with my wife.” Rose watched her father direct a condemning glare at her mother who looked away.

“My apologies for any disrespect. I have every confidence in your ability to support my daughter. You should not have been questioned on this matter.”

“Lady Tyler was protecting her daughter,” Jonathon responded in a more confident tone. A warmth filled Rose chest as Jonathon gazed at her. “I understand her concerns. And as I was just telling your wife, Rose’s happiness is my goal too.” Joy bubbled up from her toes. Rose thought she was floating and barely heard her father invite them into his library.

She rested her hand on Jonathon’s arm and led him back to the library not missing her father shutting the door to the sitting room and few sharp exchanges between her parents.

“I’m sorry, Jonathon.”

“No need. Like I said, I understand your mother. Still glad your father showed up when he did.” A brilliant smile lighted his face and a giggle escaped Rose as they entered the library. 

Jonathon burst with enthusiasm over her father’s collection of Hindi literature featuring poetry, books on Krishna and a few history books. Rose, for the most part, sat nearby, adding her insight with tales of her time working with the poor in Mumbai with Reverend Lethbridge. The three of them settled into a relaxed and enjoyable conversation with her father including comments about the Empire’s dealings in India and concerns related to rebellion.

All too soon, Jonathon professed his need to leave.

“I’ve enjoyed our visit and look forward to many more opportunities to get to know you better, Jonathon,” Lord Tyler admitted, shaking Jonathon’s hand.

“I as well.” Jonathon inclined his head. “Thank you for allowing me to pay court to Rose, although I fear I may have bored her.”

“Not at all,” Rose assured him, in a breathy voice as her cheeks heated with her enthusiasm. “I mean, I enjoy listening to you and father talk of politics and industry in India. Perhaps one day I will have the knowledge to contribute to your debates.”

“I have no doubt you have the knowledge now,” Jonathon encouraged.

“Agreed.” Lord Tyler smiled at Rose. “Rose is very insightful and often was key in revealing aspects of Hindi society I missed. She has an eye and ear for detail. Now then, we’ve kept you long enough. I’m sure you have to get back to your store. Rose, will you escort the Viscount out?”

A shiver of pleasure coursed through her at her father allowing them an intimate moment. She thanked God her mother chose to abstain from their literary discussions as she would never allow Rose such freedom.

“Thank you again, Jonathon, for everything,” she assured him warmly, her hand on his arm.

“After all the times you’ve called on me, seemed about time, I reciprocated,” he assured her in an easy, relaxed voice.

“But that was just your store, hardly a personal call. And often in a time of need not allowing us to talk. I just want you to know, I appreciate our last conversation and all you shared. I hold that close to my heart.”

“As I do your correspondence.” Rose’s breath caught and again her cheeks flushed. She looked down before his fingers caught her chin and lifted it up to meet what she would forever identify as an affectionate gaze.

“I still don’t understand what you see in this daft old book seller but I’m grateful for it.”

Rose rested a hand over his waistcoat above his heart. “I see a handsome, intelligent man with noble intents whom I admire. I see my future husband who I will spend many nights debating literature with and perhaps more.” His thumb caressed her cheek as her eyes widened at the implication. “I didn’t--”

“I do too.” A twinkle lighted his blue eyes. “Visit me in a week. I’ll introduce you to my cousin. She’s looking forward to meeting you.”

“I’d love to!” A discrete cough interrupted their conversation as James the butler appeared with Jonathon’s hat, gloves and walking stick. Jonathon released her and grasped her hand, pressing a kiss on her knuckles.

“Good day, Miss Tyler.”

Rose curtsied. “Until next week, Mr. Smith.”

As Jonathon left, a happy glow filled Rose’s heart. She couldn’t wait to be married to Jonathon Smith even if it meant complying with her mother’s demands for a complicated wedding.

“Rose,” her mother’s voice rang out. With a sigh and the warmth of her love for Jonathon still glowing from within, she walked up the stairs to talk wedding plans. Nothing would ruin that day for her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue after this chapter. Thank you everyone for your patience and kind and encouraging comments. The wedding scene is a mix or traditional and non traditional elements :)

“I’m sorry.” Lord Peter Tyler fell into the leather chair, his face lined as he stared blankly across the library.

“Don’t be, Father. It’s not your fault. We knew this was a possibility.” Rose sat primly, her hands clasped amongst the floral print folds of her skirts. 

“I can’t pay your dowry. Not as promised.” He squeezed his eyes tight and leaned forward. “I was sure I had avoided this sort of repercussions.” He shook his head and pressed his fingers into his temples.

The ache in Rose’s chest had little to do with her dowry and more to do with her father’s honor. She stood and paced a few steps toward him.

“Jonathon doesn’t care about the dowry.”

He lifted his head. “I do. Your mother does and others will judge us.”

“Since when do we care about what others think?” Rose tilted her chin up and kneeled by her father’s side. He dropped his hands and soft smile lighted his face.

“I care about your happiness and a successful marriage for both you and Jonathon. I don’t want you impacted by my bad business decision.” Rose grasped his hand and squeezed it.

“I won’t. And neither will Jonathon. He doesn’t’ care about any of that. All I care about is Jonathon, you and mother.”

“I know. And we’ll persevere. We always do.”

“But this is bad, isn’t it?” Rose couldn’t let things sit without making an attempt to help. How could she leave her family when things were so dire?

“You shouldn’t be worrying about this,” Lord Tyler assured. “You should be focusing on your wedding even if it won’t be the grand affair your mother wanted.”

Rose sighed at how her mother practically suffered a collapse at the news her father’s business partners withdrew their support, financially and otherwise. It appeared anyone with even the slightest connection to the Earl of Torchwood was deemed tainted.

“You’ve done nothing wrong and we will prove it. That is my focus. My wedding can wait.” Tears pricked at her eyes despite her statement. She longed to marry Jonathon and plans had been set to make it happen immediately. Due to the unfortunate and misguided courtship by Lord Harkness, it was decided best to prove her innocence through an immediate marriage.

“Jonathon will understand.” The one uplifting moment for Rose was how she knew Jonathon would understand. She knew he still harbored reservations even if her heart lay sure he loved her. A slight delay might give them a chance to spend more time together, acclimate to their relationship.

Her father sighed heavily. “Yes, I’m sure he will but the fact remains your marriage will clear your reputation from any suggestions of impropriety.”

“Father.” Rose stood. “I cannot in good conscious clear my own name when yours lies in jeopardy. We must work together to prove our integrity and assure your financial future.”

Lord Tyler stood and gazed unflinchingly at Rose. “I have raised a true Tyler haven’t I?” His eyes twinkled with a new light, an invigoration of determination he lacked earlier.

“We will continue with the wedding plans.” He gripped her shoulders. “I will not delay such a happy occasion in my family.” Rose’s cheeks heated but she understood his need to focus on something positive. He released her shoulders and paced toward his desk.

“Perhaps we reduce our budget and agree this will not be a grand affair all society may gossip about, but it will special for you. In the mean time I must reassess my interests and arrange meetings with those who might look past my unfortunate affiliation with the Earl.”

“That sounds like people you would not have considered as likely investors prior to this tragedy. Father, please be careful.” Rose clenched her skirts nervously.

“Dire times require extreme measures. I cannot allow this lack of credit to affect our shipping obligations. I will be careful, daughter. As long as I have you and your mother, nothing else matters.”

#

“Budget!” Lady Jacqueline Tyler paced and fretted. 

“Mother, it will be fine. I don’t need a huge wedding. It could just be intimate, our family, Cousin Amelia, Jonathon’s Cousin and a couple others.”

“Absolutely not!” Lady Tyler exclaimed, whipping her mauve skirts around to face Rose. “My only daughter is marrying and I will not keep it a secret. That would only confirm some of the wretched accusations.” She stormed up to Rose, tears in her eyes. “You’re my baby and you deserve to have the most special wedding ever.”

“Oh mum.” Rose wrapped her arms around her mother, immersing herself in her mother’s lavender scent. She mused about how her mother had changed since Jonathon called on them just a week ago. Apparently acceptance arrived with the price of planning a wedding to remember. Rose understood this was her mother’s way of accepting Rose as an adult.

“Father is doing the best he can given the circumstances. I don’t want to jeopardize your future just to impress those who have not been kind to our family.”

“It’s more than that.” Lady Jacqueline pulled back and looked Rose in the eyes. “It’s about proper etiquette and demanding respect. Our family has suffered enough grief. We must show all of society we hold our head up high and maintain our integrity. The way the Viscount does.”

“As happy as I am to hear you esteem Jonathon, you must know he doesn’t care about a fancy dress, flowers or party.”

“That’s why we have to do it.” Her mother nodded he head once in affirmation. “He may have run off to hide from his duty as Viscount after his family died but now he’s ready to marry, settle down and live up to his family name. He needs this.”

Rose pursed her lips and bit her tongue. She would not question her mother’s motivation or logic. After all, her mother had somewhat of a point. Even if it was slightly askew of who Jonathon was and what he wanted. It was her mother’s way of dealing with the unconventional betrothal and unpleasant circumstances the family now endured.

She watched her mother pace and fret about flowers, favors, bridesmaids, gowns and cake. Rose remained silent. Her new budget did not allow for all the frivolous things her mother desired. If all of these plans were to show others her family remained honorable and unaffected by vicious gossip and false accusations, Rose would find a way to work around it. First and foremost, she knew one way to allow for the presentation her mother wanted most. 

“But you can’t cancel the gown!” Her mother moaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. “The gown is everything!”

“Mother, we cannot afford the imported silk fabric you chose nor the elaborate design and long train. I shall choose something less expensive.” 

“Everyone will be looking at you.” Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. Rose again wrapped her arms around her mother.

“It’s only a dress. Wearing a simple, modest gown presents me to society as a pious and innocent bride.” Rose did her best to keep a straight face. Yes, she remained chaste and virtuous but she could not proclaim herself innocent or pious, especially not after some of the poetry she’d read or the illicit correspondence with Jonathon.

“We’ll find something we both love. I promise, mother.” Lady Jacqueline collapsed into a chair and did not appear convinced . Rose distracted her discussing the guest list which also needed to be pared down. It was far from an enjoyable afternoon and Rose longed to visit Jonathon and discuss the current crisis with him.

#

Rose breathed a sigh of relief when she received correspondence from her dear Amelia inviting her for an afternoon trip to visit Rory and visit the book shop. Rose had promised Jonathon two weeks ago she’d meet his cousin and had to delay the meeting once due to her mother’s insistence on settling wedding details.

“Rose we still have so much to plan,” her mother insisted as Rose fixed her favorite, bonnet on her head. It was a perfect shade of light blue, like Jonathon’s eyes.

“Mother, I am confident the plans are well in hand. You and father need to discuss the final guest list and the budget.”

“But you’re the bride. You should be here,” Lady Tyler insisted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Rose’s ear.

“I trust you and father. I promised Jonathon I would meet his cousin. And quite honestly I could do with some fresh air.” Rose assured her mother after a brief hug.

“There is air in the garden and you can meet Jonathon’s cousin any time. You know how your father is on this budget.” Rose smiled at mother’s pursed lips. 

The budget was a constant battle between her parents. Her father fought valiantly to keep all his business holdings from falling into ruin. And he’d done so with creative financing and a new investor. Rose still worried but her father seemed more confident.

Still, a budget was a budget. Her mother did not agree. Rose needed a release from the ongoing tension. And Amelia was due any moment to save her from said tension. Rose did not desire to witness another wedding battle between her parents.

“I haven’t seen Amelia in weeks. She’s my maid of honor and Rory is Jonathon’s best man. It would be rude to ignore the important role our extended family is playing in my wedding. Especially given how long Amelia and Rory are waiting for their own wedding.” Her mother sighed dramatically.

“Very well. I suppose you’re right. I shall endeavor to make your father see reason.”

“I know you will.” Rose patted her on the shoulder.

“And you will make sure Jonathon understands I still expect him to be the perfect son-in-law.” A giggle bubbled up her at mother’s adamant statement tempered only by the slight softening of Lady Jacqueline’s face. Her feelings for Jonathon had warmed considerably, especially after he sent over more gardening books and a box of Belgian chocolates.

Rose made her hasty retreat as Amelia’s carriage rolled up to the front of the house.

“Amelia, I cannot express how grateful I was to receive your invitation. I know Jonathon is anxious for me to meet his cousin.” Rose spoke quickly as she settled back against the leather seat. “And Mother is overwrought and consumed with wedding plans and how nothing is good enough.”

“At least you’re getting married soon.” Amelia pouted and picked at her gloves. 

“I’m so sorry, Amelia.” Rose leaned over and grasped her cousin’s hand. “I never dreamed I would marry before you. You and Rory deserve only the most wonderful wedding after all your patience.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Amelia asserted and squeezed Rose’s hand. “You deserve to be happy after all the scandal your family endured and especially now with your father’s dreadful misfortune. It’s not fair you should be forced into a rushed marriage and no proper courtship. I know you are all under pressure to present well to society.”

Rose released her hand and sat back with a sigh. “Honestly, I’m glad we don’t have to wait. I already find waiting unbearable when my thoughts are consumed with my dear Jonathon. I know he still doubts me and our whole arrangement.”

“Doubts you!” Amelia gasped in outrage.

“Oh it’s not like that.” Rose pressed gloved fingers to the corner of her eye. “It’s how much he thinks me better than him. He’s so humble and terribly self-effacing. All I want to do is reassure him and show him how happy we can be together. And I cannot do that whilst worrying about Father, family troubles and wedding plans we cannot possibly afford.” Rose nervously twisted a button on her bodice.

“Jonathon will sort himself. Or I should say, you will settle him soon enough,” Amy said with a twinkle in her eyes. “It took me months with Rory.”

“Rory would do anything for you.” Rose’s face flushed with affection for the couple. She hoped she and Jonathon would one day enjoy a similar close relationship. Amelia quirked a smile at Rose.

“Do not underestimate your Mr. Smith. He may protest he does not deserve you or question his worth but he has far exceeded the most virtuous of gentlemen in his protection of you. I think the gentleman protests too much.” Rose’s neck heated at Amelia’s suggestive tone.

“Perhaps,” Rose admitted shyly. “I know he does not care about the dowry. But weddings are expensive. I’ve cut back a few of mother’s grander plans. She’s been most perturbed but I don’t need such grandeur. I just need Jonathon.”

“I heard about your dress.” The carriage jolted and both women steadied themselves.

“I was afraid mother might say something to your mother. Really it’s not like there is no dress. We merely are simplifying and choosing a local fabric instead of any brocade or Italian lace. It’s practical.”

“Nonsense!” Amelia insisted. “A wedding dress isn’t about practical. It’s about joy, showing your fiancée and the world the beauty of the love you feel for him. It’s your day to shine and I cannot…no! I will not stand by and watch my dearest cousin who has endured so much walk meekly down the aisle.”

“Amelia, I appreciate--”

“No,” Amelia stated with a stubborn precision. “You are more than my cousin. You’re my best friend and sister; accomplice in my secret plans to visit Rory and well, if I cannot marry when and as I wish, you will. I purchased my fabric months ago and I--” Amelia’s voice choked and her eyes glistened with tears. “Rory’s family continues to delay any wedding plans.”

Rose steadied herself in the moving carriage before crossing to sit next to Amelia ands wrapping an arm around her cousin’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Amelia. Please dearest, do not fret. Rory will make them listen.”

“That’s just the point.” For the first time, Rose watched Amelia’s confidence shatter and she slumped forward. “They agreed to our engagement but feel Rory is not prepared. They want him finished with school and established. He has at least another year of school and that’s if he pursues the legal career they plan for him. He hates law classes.”

“And he wants to be a doctor of medicine.” Rose knew this and had watched how animated Rory became discussing new advances in medicine. “Rory hasn’t spoken to his family yet has he?”

“No and I fear he won’t. He does not want to disappoint them.” A bitter quality edged into Amelia’s voice.

“He does not want to disappoint you either,” Rose pointed out. “Dear cousin we share the same problem. I must convince Jonathon to believe in himself and us and you must do the same with your Rory. He must stand up for himself and his future with you.”

“And this is why I am gifting you the fabric for my gown. Because you make sense and you understand.” Rose couldn’t stifle her gasp.

“I cannot! Oh Amelia do not despair, you will use that lovely silk for your dress.”

Amelia smiled and hugged Rose. “You are marrying first and in all honesty, by the time I marry it shall not be in fashion. I can’t be seen wearing old fashion now can I? I’ve already had the dressmaker begin a gown for you. It is my gift.”

Rose could not argue Amelia’s logic and especially when Amelia made up her mind displaying that hard glint in her eyes. Rose also made up her mind: to help Amelia and Rory affirm their future and set a firm wedding date. As the carriage pulled up to the university, Rose firmed up her plan. She would persuade Jonathon to help find a way to persuade Rory’s uncle, Lord Harry Sullivan to push forward with his nephew’s wedding.

#

With a skip in her step, Rose pushed open the bright blue door to Smith’s Book Shop ahead of Rory and Amelia. The aged scent of paper in ink greeted her like an old friend. Not surprising the shop bustled with activity. 

Rose stepped inside eagerly scanning the crowd of students and mixture of old and young seeking their next literary adventure. A woman’s laughter captured her attention. Her eyes widened and heart slammed in her chest at an older, attractive woman who casually laid a hand on Jonathon’s shoulder.

Her mind whirled with thoughts of Lady Poisson. He’d claimed innocence. Again she glanced over at the brown haired lady with a warm smile who appeared quite familiar with Jonathon. Rose fisted her hands against insidious doubts about his integrity. Had she made a terrible mistake? Tears pricked at her eyes.

“Rose?” Amelia gripped her arm.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” Rose plastered a weak attempt at a smile and adjusted her bonnet. Amelia narrowed her eyes on Rose before her gaze landed on Jonathon.

“Amelia,” Rory warned. “I think we should not judge a man who has shown us nothing but honorable intentions.”

“Honorable? This is the second lady he’s paraded in public showing no propriety and now a lack of respect for Rose.” Rose watched Amelia’s face flush and her lips purse. Rose knew she should intervene but that tiny and cutting voice of doubt rooted her to the floor and left her unable to swallow much less speak.

“Matthew 7:1-3,” Rory stated with a confidence and calm Rose admired. “Judge not, that ye be not judged, Amelia. Mr. Smith is expecting Rose and I doubt he would do anything to risk injuring his fiancé’s faith or trust in him.”

Amelia, head held high ignored Rory’s warning and marched toward Jonathon like Hannibal over the Pyrenees. “Mr. Smith.” She spit his name out like a curse.

Rose followed a sighing Rory. She could face off against arrogant elite and even the infamous Lady Poisson with strength and fortitude. But when faced with Jonathon treating some elegant lady with familiarity, her confidence fled. 

“Lady Pond,” Jonathon greeted with an incline of his head. “And Lord Williams.” His eyes lit on Rose and he stood up straight, his eyes lightening until suddenly he frowned. Amelia huffed whilst Rory tugged at her arm, her glare now directed at the brown haired lady at Jonathon’s side

Rose bit her lip, desiring to flee. So much for her being woman enough to marry a man of Jonathon’s nobility and stature. The room spun and she prayed she would not make any more a fool of herself than she already had.

#

Jonathon’s day started out with birds singing and the sun shining brightly. Rose was expected at the shop and soon he’d introduce her to his cousin, Sarah Jane. His heart beat double time and an elation pulsed through him at thought of introducing Rose to his cousin. Sarah Jane had expressed delight in his marriage which at first puzzled him. He expected shock and questions. Not a bright smile coupled with _it’s about time._

Was he so transparent in his affections for Rose? He’d paused wondering how much of an idiot he portrayed himself, a lonely old man gushing over a pretty young lady. Well, she was far more than just a pretty young lady. His Rose had so much more depth and intelligence. He winced. Yes, he was entirely the babbling love struck idiot portrayed in many a romance novel.

But then his day, as often occurred, mired him in the necessary business of running his shop. Books needed ordering; special orders fulfilled; authors and publishers corresponded with; customers attended to; the accounting needed his keen eye; and then there was always some emergency to deal with. Sarah Jane appeared at just the right time as he was faced with a nervous young lady sent to procure a volume of _Silas Marner_ for her cousin.

From a family of moderate means and little education, Miss Jenny Jones appeared overwhelmed by a world of books. She also looked like she could use a decent meal. She was just the sort of person Sarah Jane helped. And his cousin swept in like the strong force of nature she was: with a calming presence, she offered support and compassion. He smiled as his cousin adopted another young ward into her care.

And it was just as they were discussing timely intervention and how ironic that it occurred before the section containing Oliver Twist that Rose arrived. He was slightly miffed at himself that he didn’t see her the moment the door opened. But then Lady Pond stormed up to him, eyeing him with a vicious contempt that would slice most men down to sized. 

Jonathon easily dismissed the fiery lady and especially at the apologetic look on Lord William’s face. He brushed by them amidst Lady Pond’s “Don’t think you can just walk away from this Mr. Smith!”

He was too focused on Rose’s uncertain expression and how the worry furrowing her brown cut him to the quick. Why would his lovely fiancée be so worried? Did it have something to do with Lady Pond’s foul mood? He was well aware of the Tyler family’s troubles but also that the problem was now being resolved thanks to his intervention. 

“Rose.” Her name rolled off his tongue in a deep warm tone and he walked over to her, reaching for her hands as naturally as breathing. “Is something wrong?”

“No, of course not.” She looked down and her cheeks flushed.

“Rose, darling.” The endearment still felt awkward. “Please tell me what troubles you. Is it your family?”

“No…I mean yes, of course I worry about father.” Her gaze lit on Sarah Jane who strode up to his side.

“Forgive me. Rose, this is my cousin Lady Sarah Jane Smith.” 

“Cousin?” Lady Pond exclaimed as Lord Williams pulled her back toward an aisle of books. Jonathon frowned wondering what issue Lady Pond had with his cousin? Sarah Jane stood by his side waiting for his introduction. “Sorry, Sarah Jane, this is my fiancée Miss Rose Tyler.”

“A pleasure to finally meet you Miss Tyler. It’s nice to meet the woman who so consumes Jonathon’s every thought.”

“I wouldn’t say every thought,” Jonathon defended, his cheeks heating as Rose shook Sarah Jane’s hand.

“Lady Smith.” Rose laughed as she spoke his cousin’s name and again Jonathon puzzled over her reaction. He was not always the most adept at reading his female customers but Rose always seemed easier to understand. A genuine smile lighted her face erasing her prior concerns.

“I fear our delayed meeting was due to family obligations I could not avoid,” Rose explained.

“Planning a wedding will do that,” Sarah Jane admitted warmly. “Please let me know if there is anything I may do to help. I must admit, your engagement to Jonathon is the highlight of my year. It’s good to see Jonathon so happy.”

“Yes, I am very happy.” Jonathon inserted, wrapping a possessive arm around Rose’s shoulder in a most bold and familiar gesture. “Speaking of which, I think your new ward could use your assistance.” He nodded at Jenny shifting uncomfortably in a corner, tugging at her worn dress.

“Ah yes. Please excuse me Rose, but I fear my newest protégé needs some guidance and perhaps a good shot of confidence. Perhaps once all the excitement with your family and the wedding is resolved, we can share some tea and get to know each other better.”

“Yes, I’d like that.” As Sarah Jane guided Jenny out of the store, Jonathon walked with Rose toward the back room, sweeping the curtain aside.

“She likes you. I can tell.” Jonathon pulled a chair over for Rose.

“I hope she does,” Rose said nervously, smoothing out her light blue skirts.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” Again Rose’s cheeks turned pink.

“I fear my petty insecurities are overflowing; especially with the constant worry and tumultuous emotions at home between my parents. Today, I harbored most unpleasant thoughts until I knew the lady you spoke with so intimately was your cousin.” Rose slumped forward. “Oh what sort of person am I becoming?”

Jonathon pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “One who is bearing incredible pressure from society and your family quite well all things considered.”

“You are being far too generous.” Rose sat up, regaining her prim posture.

“Rose, you have uplifted me in ways you cannot fathom. You are well aware of my doubts and concerns about whether I shall ever be a good enough man for you. And you always tell me to trust in you and us. I must do the same for you.” He laid a hand over hers nestled in her skirts. “You and I shall endure my dear lady. We shall face the hordes of society and any crisis that may befall us and hold our heads high. We are indomitable, you and me.”

Rose burst into a huge smile and threw herself into his arms. She fit perfectly, her bosom pressed against his chest in a way no proper gentlemen would acknowledge. Jonathon’s body lit on fire as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you,” Rose said softly, gazing at him with adoration. He settled her in his lap in a most improper manner. But Jonathon was quite done with propriety at that moment. All he wanted was Rose, comforted in his arms.

“I know about your father’s financial dilemma. You know I do not care about your family’s financial worth or your dowry except as it is important to you. You are worth more than any dowry.”

She nodded her head. “I told father. I’m just worried for his and mother’s future.”

“Well worry no more. Your father and I have worked out a solution. Now rest easy and tell me about this wedding.”

“Must we?” Rose groaned and wrinkled her nose in the most delightful way. “Mother and father are sorting that and by sorting I mean arguing. I prefer to just be here with you and your books. Tell me about your latest acquisition, please Jonathon.”

How could he resist her? She admitted minor faults like she carried the weight of world on her shoulders and instead of venting of her own frustrations, preferred to talk about literature and his business. If ever Jonathon doubted his soon to be marriage, all doubt vanished. 

#

Jonathon frowned and tugged at his ascot as the carriage ambled along toward St. Martin In The Fields. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Sarah Jane commanded and reached over to pat his shoulder. “You look appropriately dashing.”

“I do not!” Jonathon flinched at the description but warmth flushed through him thinking of what Rose would think of him in the fine long black coat, silver grey waistcoat and specially made top hat. She’d be radiant, of course.

“Your parents would be proud.”

He swallowed hard at Sarah Jane’s comment. A memory of his stern faced father, in his fitted coat and piercing blue eyes cut straight to Jonathon’s heart. He remembered his mother as well, at a family dinner and how everyone bustled and boasted wanting attention. But his father sat still and imposing focused on his eldest son. Jonathon always hated it. Now, he yearned for his father’s steady and unflinching countenance along with his mother’s warm and encouraging presence.

Would they be proud? They certainly would not about most of his life but in this one thing, in Rose, he hoped they would be. 

“I’m also proud of you. Rose is a good match. She’s uncommonly in touch with the world for a woman her age. I find myself strangely uplifted talking to her. It’s good to find a woman with her eyes open and willing to do more than sit idly while there are so many in need.”

Jonathon smiled and reached over to rest his hand on Sarah Jane’s. She was right and he was very lucky. Funny how the universe worked setting him and Rose so their path’s met at just the right time.

“I’m glad. Rose esteems you and your work. We haven’t had much time to talk since the banns were read. Mainly we’ve been meeting with Reverend Benton in preparation for the wedding.”

“And how did that go?” she asked with a chuckle. 

“Not a church going one me. But the Reverend wasn’t too bad. Rose is good at smoothing things over.”

The carriage pulled up to the church with its columned portico and spire stretching upward into the blue sky.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” Jonathon admitted. “And if I haven’t said, you look quite fine today, dear cousin. Light green suits you.”

Sarah Jane paused staring at him, crinkles at the corners of her eyes revealing her affection. She reached her white gloved hands over and straightened his top hat. “How I look doesn’t matter. This is about you and Rose and we’ve dawdled quite long enough.”

Jonathon helped Sarah Jane from the coach. She adjusted her matching hat with plumes of white feathers adorning it. Rose’s carriage approached as they walked into the main entrance. Jonathon paused once but several guests greeted him requiring his attention. He caught one glimpse of pleated skirts and lace embellished with tiny pearls before Sarah Jane tugged him inside. He released his cousin to an usher. 

He and Rose had opted for a nontraditional ceremony where he would meet with the minister ahead of the ceremony. Jonathon quietly made his way past several dark wood pews toward the back of the church, its chandeliers lit and glowing against the arched ceiling.

Any other time, he would admire the relief work of cherubs, clouds and shells but his nerves dominated his need to catalogue and discuss the interior. He met Reverend Benton in the rear of the church. His heart slammed in his chest. He should have explored the church with Rose so they could be prepared. His hands trembled. Preparation was key to success.

Heat flushed across his back. The minister spoke to the organist. Jonathon couldn’t remember the man’s name. Bloody hell he was a mess. He paced, hands fisted at his sides. Why did they have to have this bloody big wedding?

He tugged at his ascot again and jumped as the organ pumped music reverberating in the church. Curses echoed in his head but somehow they did not spill out. He snorted at his personal miracle and gazed upwards thanking his parents and guardian angels for preventing him from cursing through the whole thing. 

He eyed the ceiling. Could the sins of his past bring the whole thing crashing down? His chest squeezed tight and the room spun.

“Jonathon.” Reverend Benton’s voice grounded him. “It’s time.”

He followed the reverend with little thought other than: please let me get through this without mucking it up and embarrassing Rose.

Jonathon stood before the crowd of friends, Rose’s family and society elite come to pass judgment. The doors at the entrance opened. His groomsmen, Lord Williams marched in, a solemn expression on his face, accompanied by Rose’s bridesmaid, Lady Pond. Jonathon’s nerves ebbed as they approached him and a smile broke the stern expression on Lady Pond’s face.

It was perhaps the first genuine smile to grace the lady’s face since they’d met. He inclined his head as she stood to the side with a bouquet of pink roses held against her light blue gown. Lord Williams shuffled next to him, appearing as nervous as if he was the one marrying. Jonathon mused, it was good practice and if Rose had her way, which she would, Rory and Amelia would soon be on the expedited path to matrimony.

His gaze landed at the trio walking down the aisle. The music muffled and the crowd became nothing but a mass of grey. All Jonathon knew was the beaming blonde walking down the aisle next to her parents.

He swallowed hard at his Rose, swathed in a shimmering white fabric cinched at the waist and exposing a modest neckline draped with a pearl necklace he gifted her. His eyes teared up as he met her gaze, warm and oh so joyous. Nothing in his life could fill him with such a lightness but at the same time, the searing emotion almost choked the breath from him.

Lord and Lady Tyler remitted their daughter to his keeping and suddenly Minister Benton was speaking. Jonathon didn’t hear a word.

“Jonathon?” Rose asked so softly only he could hear her. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He breathed out the words and flushed hoping no one heard his boyish exuberance.

“So do you.” She grinned brightly and they held hands as Reverend Benton spoke to the congregation and looked expectantly at Jonathon. Lord Williams poked him in the side 

“I Jonathon Smith, Viscount of Gallifrey,” He paused, taking in the moment of Rose’s flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, “Take thee Rose Marion Tyler to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.

He exhaled in relief and Rose beamed at him before her brown eyed gaze, glistening with tears, met his until all the world focused on this one precious moment.

“I Rose Marion Tyler take thee Jonathon Smith, Viscount of Gallifrey to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

He slid the simple gold band onto her finger, and clasped her hand tight, desiring nothing more than to assure her of his devotion and spoke the reminder of his vow.

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

The rest of the ceremony and service flew by in a rush of adrenalin and nervous excitement as they kneeled to pray and be blessed. He practically ran with her down the aisle at the end of the ceremony her long lace train floating behind them. It was Lord Williams and Lady Pond slowing them down so they could straighten Rose’s dress and remind him in not so subtle words to thank the guests.

Thankfully, Rose took charge and handled the throng of people with ease and charm. Even the reception at the Tyler residence seemed long and tedious. Except for Rose who remained by his side and made sure to exude pride in her marriage. It was only as she tripped over her gown, Jonathon intervened.

“I think my dear wife could use a rest.”

Lady Tyler’s face turned red and her eyes sliced into him like daggers.

“Mother, thank you so much for everything. I could not imagine a more perfect day.” Rose’s voice strained after the long day. Jonathon gratefully took Rose’s lead hoping to extricate them so his bride could at the very list sit down.

“Yes, Lady Tyler.” He inclined his head. “I could not be more grateful for all your efforts. Every detail was beyond excellent.” And with one compliment, Jonathon secured their escape.

It wasn’t until later that night as he carried her, bridal style, into his home, not far from Hyde Park, that the full impact of the day swept across him like a typhoon in India. He was married to Rose. They were husband and wife. He wasn’t alone anymore. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

That night after they each took their leave to undress from their finery, nerves twisted his stomach. They had never discussed the intimacies of marriage. What if all she wanted was a marriage in name, a basic agreement of companionship?

“Jonathon?” He looked up to find her in a white ruffled chemise, the candlight providing a glimpse of the curves hidden beneath the fabric. Her hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders and she blushed deeply. Jonathon shifted in his own dressing gown over his night clothes.

“Are you all right, husband?”

“No.” He winced. Stupid. Not the right thing to say. She giggled and the magical sound eased his concerns.

“My dear Mr. Smith, have we not discussed the essence of many a romance, the conclusion of which is happily ever after?”

“We have Mrs. Smith.” He stepped forward and grasped her hands.

“Then I believe it’s time for us to enjoy in the flesh what our beloved characters have on the pages of so many great authors’ works.”

“I love you.” His voice shook as she slipped closer to him, wrapping her arms around him, her fingers soothingly running through his hair.

“And I love you, my dear Mr. Smith.”

Their lips met and questions quieted as he wrapped himself around the woman who so captivated his heart. They spent the rest of their night putting the great romances to shame as they consummated what would be not only a great partnership but deep love founded in a book store amongst the pages of literature but turned into so much more and so much better than either could have imagined.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue :) Thanks again for everyone who kudoed, read and commented.

“Thank you, Mr. Mott.” Rose smiled at Wilfred Mott, a regular at the store and one of her favorite people. Since Rose convinced Jonathon to allow her to help with the daily operations of the store, she’d become attached to some of the regulars.

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. Always a pleasure to see your smiling face.” Mr. Mott, tipped his hat and walked out with his parcel of books.

One of the clerks relieved her at the register and she swept across the shop to find Jonathon debating physics with another customer, one of the professors from London University.

Rose cleared her throat and Jonathon burst into a smile. “Forgive me, Professor Yana, but I believe my wife is reminding me of a prior engagement. Shall we continue discussing Quantum Theory another time?”

“I insist, Mr. Smith.” The gray haired professor bowed. “Mrs. Smith.”

Rose wrapped her arm around Jonathon’s. “Husband, we are going to be late.” She tried to infuse a sternness into her voice but failed miserably. She always did around him. Even six months later, her heart still fluttered around him.

“No worries, Mrs. Smith. Fastest carriage in London we have!”

“We still have to rush home and change.”

“Plenty of time for changing and other things,” he growled in her ear. Rose’s neck flushed at the thought of all the other things they’d been up to since marrying. A satisfied hum escaped. Rose did enjoy married life and especially with her lean, and passionate husband.

But this was not a day for such salacious thoughts and deeds. This was day to celebrate the culmination of many a dinner and conversation with Lord Harry Sullivan, guardian and uncle of Lord Roderick Williams. Rose smiled as she donned a sapphire blue gown, with a corseted bust and cascade of pleated skirts.

Jonathon appeared sliding his hands sunder the gown and nipping at her neck. “I don’t think Amelia will tolerate tardiness due to my husband’s carnal needs.”

“She need never know.” Rose giggled at the sting of his teeth on her neck.

“But the evidence shall speak for itself.” She moaned leaning back into his embrace. He growled and pulled away.

“Weddings.” He snorted and laced her up. Rose smiled knowing he was pondering how he would unlace it that night.

They arrived at the church barely in the nick of time. Amelia stormed back and forth outside, her long train a tangle of ivory pearl encrusted fabric.

“What took you so long? Do you know what time it is?”

“Yes, it is exactly half past eleven,” Jonathon responded with a smirk. “And we should be walking down the aisle. He arched a brow at Rory. “Lord Williams? You ready to join with your--” Jonathon swallowed hard and Rose tapped him on the back. “Lovely bride who looks like a vision. Doesn’t she Rose?”

“She does.” Rose sighed as she embraced Amelia. “Are you ready, cousin?”

“I was ready six months ago,” she tartly responded but then her face softened.

“Thank you for all you did with Rory’s family. I confess I never thought they’d break with such rigid tradition for his future or marriage to me. I truly am grateful.” Rose hugged her again and music drifted out from the church.

“It’s time. Enjoy this day for it is the start of so many other amazing days in your life.” Jonathon tugged her away as Amelia shoved a bouquet of white roses at her. Rose accepted Jonathon’s arm following Rory inside.

Walking arm in arm with him, reminded Rose of her wedding day and emotions burst forth. Especially as she nodded at her mother who by God’s grace now carried her soon to be sibling. Tears of gratitude flowed for the many blessings bestowed on her family. Her parents were settled and happy just like she and Jonathon.

Perhaps one day it would be she giving Jonathon a child. His grip tightened on her arm and she wondered if he thought the same. Perhaps that night would be a time to discuss such things. A different smile lighted her face, one of memories of her husband leading her down a path of passion and love play she would have tittered at as a young woman. 

They stood by Rory and Amelia witnessing their friends’ marriage. It was the perfect day, filled with much happiness and the joy of helping their friends off to a prosperous future. Of course, that didn’t mean she and Jonathon had to stay for the whole reception. That was the privilege of a married couple who stayed on the periphery of society. After the appropriate social appearance, they could retreat back to their world, one filled with books, love and the joy of their life together.


End file.
